The Flame of the Gods
by refloc
Summary: Valerie killed him in one clean shot, and slipped away without setting off the alarm. That was excellence. REAL excellence. Madam Ko
1. The Fortress

**I hope you people are happy. This is my fifth draft, and it was _not_ an easy story to write. First of all, because I don't know about anything I wrote about (which should make you feel safer), and second of all, because there's not much on Madam Ko in the books.**

**Anyway, I did my best, and I think I sound like I know what I'm talking about at least. I love you guys.**

**As always,**

**refloc**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

She killed him in one clean shot, and slipped away without setting off the alarm. That was excellence. _Real_ excellence.

Valerie Ko smiled, remembering that night, fourteen months ago. And they'd never caught her. Since then, she'd killed eleven others. It paid rather well, since it was hard for some people to stomach the idea of shooting someone down in cold blood for the money. It didn't especially bother her though. The people she killed deserved to die, and she was doing them a favor, really, by shooting them clean. If she didn't someone half-crazed for revenge would probably torture them to death, sooner or later.

The reason she was so successful, of course, was that no one suspected an eighteen year-old girl of being a hit woman. She still looked young and innocent. It had something to do with the Japanese in her maybe. Or maybe not. But she was small, and looked childish, and definitely not threatening. She wasn't even considered.

If she hadn't kept bothering Rivers she'd have never gotten the job. She suspected he'd assigned to her more to get rid of her than because he thought her capable of it.

After all—

The ringing she'd been waiting for began. Valerie picked up the phone. "Yes?" she asked in clipped tones.

"I've got a client. Why don't you come join us this evening, say around seven?" His voice squeaked out, oily and slick. He sounded round, even over the phone.

"Fine. I'll be there." That was all. Valerie hung up. A smile lifted the corner of her mouth. There had been rumors going around. About someone big paying Chicago a visit. Someone from Europe. Someone with a private army of bodyguards.

Someone with a lot of money.

* * *

Valerie checked herself in the mirror. She liked to look her best for these meetings. And how she looked usually surprised people. There was a stereotype out there that said hired killers had to be big, burly, and ugly. And have tattoos, body piercings, rotten teeth, gangster clothes, and a bald head. That was gross. That was all she had to say about it.

After deciding she was presentable, she took the elevator downstairs from her apartment, got in her car, and drove to the restaurant where these meetings were held.

The restaurant was one of those expensive ones, where the waiters were so well trained, that they wouldn't have heard you making plans to blow up the building if you made them two feet away. It was quite safe to hold… "business" meetings there.

Valerie walked in, nodding to one of the waiters, who motioned her towards the back. They were beginning to recognize her now, which was nice. Rivers was sitting with an older looking military man— Russian, it looked like, talking quietly. Two men were also there. Standing. Behind the table. The bodyguards. They were obviously making the waiters uncomfortable with their suspicious glares.

She slipped quietly through the tables, and came to a stop a few feet behind Rivers, waiting for him to introduce her. The two men ignored her a few minutes longer, arguing over some fine point that Valerie didn't quite understand, though she guessed it had something to do with an extra fee. The bodyguards watched her narrowly. It hadn't probably even occurred to them that she was the person being hired.

Finally, the Russian glanced up. For a long moment, he stared at her. Then at Rivers. "Who _is_ that?"

"Your hit woman."

Disbelief confirmed that she'd been right about the guards' ideas. Both of them had to turn away to hide a laugh with a cough. She was used to it now though. People laughed the first time. Never again. Not once they'd seen her work. She was too good for that.

"A little girl?" He leaned forward, locking eyes with Rivers. "Look, Rivers— I was told you had the best in the world at your disposal, and I'm willing to pay quite a large sum! Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Not at all. I'm serious."

"_That_ is the best in the world?" Disgust tugged at his mustache.

Rivers leaned forward, beginning a speech Valerie had heard eleven times before. "She never had any training. Not in anything. Her first time— it was to get rid of her so she'd stop pestering me for a job— her first job, and all by herself, she got Kusac Trabar."

The coughing stopped. Valerie felt all four men's gaze resting on her. Kusac Trabar. The world's most secure man, until his recent death. She killed him in one clean shot, and slipped away without setting off the alarm. Obviously the men were familiar with his security.

"Her? _She's_ the one that got Trabar?"

"She's the one." Rivers leaned back, knowing his job was done, and the deal was set. You couldn't ask for better than that. "It was perfect. No suspects, no clues, no anything. You wanted the best, and you're getting the best— her. And for a reasonable price, I'd say."

It was reasonable. Remarkably reasonable. Only about three times higher than a fair price for a regular killer. He nodded. "Very well then. I think we are agreed."

Rivers smiled, and stood with him. "Good. Good. I'm sure you'll be quite pleased with her performance."

"I trust I will be." He nodded to man who rose from another table. "You speak with her. I have other business to take care of tonight."

He went out, surrounded by various persons who happened to be leaving at the same time. Valerie seated herself as they left, and turned her attention to the man across from her. "Do you have a file for me?"

In silence, he slid a thick file across the table. Valerie skimmed it briefly, ignoring Rivers as he stood, and made for the restrooms. "Alright. That's enough, I believe."

The man paused, uncertain, and finally said: "There was something else, actually."

"Oh?"

"Miss…"

"You may call me Madam."

He nodded. "Alright then… Madam. Your target— is— my younger brother."

Valerie was slightly surprised by this, but she was careful not to let it show on her face. "You must realize that I have agreed to take care of him, and I feel sorry for you, but I have a job that needs to be done. I'm sorry. There's not much I can do, though."

"That's not what I'm asking." He glanced around, and then back at the file in her hands. "He got captured by an enemy of— him, and he knows a lot. More than he should have. Of course he needs to be taken care of, but I want to ask you to do it as quickly as possible. I'm willing to pay quite a bit. And please— one shot only."

Valerie looked at him. "I never use more than one. One bullet. Always. I pride myself on it."

"Quickly?" He hesitated. "This place— it's worse than Trabar's. Much worse. I know you're good, but it's taken people years to get in there, and they've failed their mission. If you could get it done in a few weeks— put him out of it as quickly as possible. The sooner it's done, the more I'll pay you for it, if that's anything."

"Quickly." She stood with a nod. "It will be quick, and painless. You have my word."

"Thank you." He stood, and walked out, imposing, but a little more human than before, because he had a life now, and feelings. He was no longer a toy with a gun. Valerie watched him, and sat there a few minutes more, before getting to her feet, slipping the folder into her case, and leaving the restaurant.

* * *

She was woken by a phone call the next morning. Her '_business_' phone. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was rough, and edgy. "Yeah. Rivers told me to call. Said you got a job getting into The Fortress."

"That's what you call it?" Valerie rolled over, picking up the folder beside the bed. "The Fortress? I suppose it must be, though. Everything Mafia is, anyway."

"This is different though."

"How so?" Valerie scrambled for a pen, knowing she'd need every scrap of information. This was going to be hard. Really hard. She hadn't done so many breaking and entering jobs. Those were more difficult. But this was named impossible by the world's big boys in stealth, architect, security, accumulators. Everyone. Everyone said it was impossible to break in, and so far, they'd been all too right.

"There's no way in. Literally. Not in the plumbing, not in tunneling, not in flying— there is literally no way inside, except through one small door. And then, they have checkpoints every fifty feet, and all kinds of tech no one's seen. The place is crawling with men. You have to know _hundreds_ of passwords. To enter rooms, to eat, to sleep, to use the restrooms, to go through the hallways. Everything. You don't give it right off, and it doesn't matter who you are, but they'll shoot you just in case you're not who they think you are."

"So what's your suggestion?" Valerie frowned, pursing her lips in frustration. A job like this would be difficult. Very difficult. Trabar hadn't been so hard, because he relied to heavily on his little army, and locks.

"There are none to give. I was on a team who worked for years to get in there. I was the tech guy. The others were killed a mile from the actual Fortress, as soon as they stepped into Mafia territory. There's no way in. Rivers just thought you might like to know what you're up against. He thinks you can do it. Quite frankly, I don't."

"Why not?"

A rasping cough met her ears as he tried to clear his throat. "Look, I know you killed Trabar, but this is different. There's no way in."

Valerie sighed, and rolled onto her back, glaring at the ceiling. "A question. Are any of the architects still alive? Anyone who helped build The Fortress? Anyone?"

"I've checked. No. Whoever's in charge in there had them all killed. We've never found his name out, by the way. I don't think many of his own men know it. He's just The Tyrant. It's seems childish, I know, but— We couldn't resist it. It seemed fitting."

"Well, thank you."

"Yeah. Good luck, whatever you try."

Valerie hung up, and stood, reaching for her file. More than anything, she needed an idea. An original idea. And those were the hardest thing on earth to get. Whatever you came up with, you could guarantee that someone before you had tried it. Occasionally, you hit on a good idea. One that was absurd enough that no one had planned for it. Then, if you were willing to risk enough for it, you could probably win.

This time, she studied the file, until she could have told most everything in the file to anyone who cared to ask. That was one reason she succeeded. She planned and studied for her jobs.

Finally, she got changed into other clothes— she slept fully dressed, just in case— and went downstairs to get her bike. Where she was going, it wasn't wise to take a car you didn't want stolen. And even though there had been rumors, and people were starting to give her a little more respect, it was still better to be on the safe side.

She rode for about an hour, until she got to a certain bar, and then swung off, setting her bike against the building, and opening the door. It was Tuesday morning. Not many men were inside. Four, to be exact. Shawn: the bartender, and three men who got some of their jobs through Rivers, as she did.

Shawn nodded to her, though she knew her presence made him nervous. He'd heard rumors too, and she rarely visited. A visit, therefore, wouldn't be interpreted as good.

The other men just watched her, waiting to see what she would do. They were silent now, which meant they'd been talking about something that police around the globe would have given quite a bit to hear.

Valerie crossed the room to their table, raising an eyebrow. "Mind if I join you?" It wasn't so much a question though, as a statement. Her tone made it quite clear that she would, and there was to be no protest. She didn't think she'd get it anyway, but she'd rather be safe.

One of the men motioned to the empty chair. Still, they were silent. Waiting for her to say something.

Valerie, however, had no intention of speaking first. She leaned back in the chair, half shutting her eyes, and watching them from beneath long lashes. It made them uncomfortable, which amused her very much.

Shawn broke the silence by dropping a glass, and hurried into the back room, swearing loudly, and shutting the door with a bang.

She said nothing.

"Have you heard anything?" asked one, finally. "I mean— about the big man in town?"

Valerie nodded. "I saw him last night."

"Does that mean—"

"Yes." She shoved her hands into her pockets. The men would be disappointed, no doubt, knowing that the money would not come to them. But let them be.

One of the men she knew slightly better— Trevor— glanced up. "Does he really have an army?"

"As big as Trabar's." Valerie shut her eyes, carefully measuring her breathing. She needed to think. Think about how she could get into The Fortress and kill him.

The third man looked up, and asked abruptly: "Is it true then?"

"Is what true?" Valerie opened her eyes, turning her head toward him, and trying to think.

"You got Trabar."

For a long time, Valerie looked at him. It wasn't good to mention those kind of things. Not good at all. First, because one or more of Trabar's humiliated guards might come after her; and two, because then she'd have a flood of requests, and the police after her. But still, she'd like a little recognition. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes. I did."

The men watched her with new respect, waiting for her to say why she was here. It would _not_ be polite to ask. If they were told, and the police asked questions later…

"I got a bad one, last night."

They exchanged looks. So the job was hard. If she'd gotten Trabar, what could possibly be difficult for her? And why was she telling them? It wasn't like they could help her.

"What do you know about The Fortress?"

Shocked silence. Breaking into The Fortress was such a ridiculous thought, that no one even made any offers anymore. They accepted the fact that no one they hired would be able to, and let go whatever had disappeared inside. That she had been asked was a shock in itself. That she had accepted would give several older persons a heart attack.

Finally, one she knew as a professional art thief sputtered: "The _Fortress_? The only thing that ever goes in is what they want in! And if you get inside, it's guaranteed you'd rather be elsewhere!"

Valerie looked at him, suddenly realizing he was right. The only people that went in, where those the Mafia wanted to go in. And then it was no problem. You didn't really have a choice. So all she had to do to get in, was make the Mafia want her in.

Trevor was looking at her oddly. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" Valerie stood quickly. "Nothing at all. It's just— I know how to get in, now."

"How to get _in_?" All three stared at her in disbelief.

Valerie nodded absentmindedly, and hurried to the door, anxious to get back to her apartment so she could call Rivers and start her actual planning. She'd need to leave soon.

* * *

**I decided to shorten my chapters from ten pages back to five. I think five's a better length, give or take a page or so. People with limited web time can get it read, and I get more reviews. :)**

**One other thing— I've done something I swore I'd never do. I started publishing, and I'm not done writing the story. I swore I'd never start until it was at least half way written, and I knew the ending, and what all my chapters would have. I'm about a third of the way through, and I have no idea what happens, and a vague idea of the ending. I swear I'll do my best though. That one I'll never break. :)**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	2. A Dangerous Idea

**Hi again. I'm actually writing this two weeks before this chapter is published, and I'm going to be incredibly vain, and say I'm glad you all like it. Even though I haven't published the first chapter yet. :) You know me.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

"_What_?" For once, Rivers lost his composure, and yelled. The only other time he'd ever yelled at Valerie was before. Before she'd killed Trabar. That was the last time he'd yelled at her. He'd yelled at her to go kill Trabar, and he'd be her agent.

Valerie smiled, excitement welling up inside her, though the odds of her surviving were so small, and the idea so ridiculous, that she should have been feeling ill. "Yes. I'm going to get them to capture me, kill him, and get out. It's not such a bad idea, Rivers."

"That's impossible!"

"Not quite." Valerie stood, moving to the window, and opening it so she could look out. She liked the view, blocked as it was by other buildings. "Now how do I get the Mafia's attention?"

"Go to Russia," said Rivers glumly, realizing that he would be losing his best killer yet in this stupid scheme. Valerie could have gone so far, and instead, she was throwing herself away on an impossible break-in. But he knew her. She would not be dissuaded.

She was not that way.

"I know that!" said Valerie with impatience. "But how do I get their attention so that they take care of me immediately without killing me, and put me in The Fortress?"

"Pretend to know whatever it is that they got your target for knowing. It was obviously important enough to land him in The Fortress, and it'll get you there too."

Valerie pulled out a pen, and reached for a piece of paper. "Can I have my man's number?" It was never a good thing to ask for an employer's number, but in this case, if she didn't have it, then it seemed likely that she wouldn't be able to do anything.

Rivers sighed, and gave it to her. Let her do what she wanted then. It was useless arguing.

"Thank you." Valerie hung up, and then dialed the Russian's number. Hopefully she'd be able to do this right, get what she wanted, and not make a fool out of herself.

"Hello?"

"Sir. You hired me last night."

"Ah. Is it too much?" He sighed tiredly. "I understand. I never really thought anyone would be able to anyways. Not even the best. I'll just have to let it go."

"That is not why I called." Valerie fought to keep the smugness out of her voice.

"You— found a way in?" Disbelief and excitement mingled together hopefully.

"I have." She relished those words. _I have_. And she had. "All I will need to know, is the information that my target knew, and how he got himself captured. I'm flying to Russia tomorrow."

He drew in his breath sharply. "You're not seriously considering—"

"Yes. I think it will work. If I die, it is just a small fee from Rivers. An extra fifty thousand is all, I believe. You may be sure I will not reveal anything of consequence."

Silence.

"Shall we not discuss this over the phone?"

"I think not. Why don't you meet me— No, I'll have one of my men pick you up at Rivers' office around nine."

"Alright." Valerie hung up with a smile, and reached for her traveling bag. She would need to pack, and have Rivers get her plane tickets. And she'd also need to figure out how to get a weapon inside The Fortress without attracting any attention.

* * *

Her target's older brother picked her up. They drove in silence for a while, but finally he said: "You found a way in?"

"I did. The same way he got in. Because the Mafia wanted him in. It's really not that hard."

"In theory." He spun the wheel, and then held up his left hand. The back was badly scarred. "The Mafia isn't nice, you know. When I was younger I had a run-in with a group on the lower level. They set me on fire after breaking a few of my ribs. It wasn't pleasant."

Valerie flinched inwardly.

"The Fortress will be worse, if more sophisticated. They're torturing Zane, and they'll torture you, once you get in, if they think you know anything, which they will if you're in there. Probably more so, because you're more likely to break than he is."

"I am?"

He dropped his hand with a shrug. "You certainly look a lot more fragile than Zane. It'll be easier to break you physically at least. And if you don't mind me saying so— you don't look so bad, and they don't have many women in The Fortress."

Valerie pursed her lips, but said nothing. It was nothing personal. He was only warning her after all. And probably right, too.

They slowed to a stop, and he got out, motioning for her to follow him.

On the other side of the street, a black limo was waiting. He helped her in, shut the door, and the car pulled away immediately.

"Good evening."

Valerie turned quickly, nodding respectfully to her employer. "Thank you for seeing me."

"Thank _you_, for even remotely considering something so dangerous." He leaned back in his seat with a sigh. "I was… associated with the Mafia at one time. I am familiar with The Fortress actually. I doubt you will ever get out of The Fortress. I am sure you will die, and I am sure you will see more that your fair share of torture before you do. Please understand that I will not think less of you for refusing."

Valerie shook her head firmly. "Perhaps I overestimate myself, or perhaps you underestimate me, but I believe I can do it."

For a long moment, he studied her. Finally, he nodded. "Very well then. All you need to know, is that I have in my possession a blue diamond— _Flame of the Gods_, some call it— and they want it. It is still in Russia, and your target was on his way to get it when he was captured, because in a phone conversation with me, he mentioned the word: diamond. He was picked up within two hours of the time, four days ago."

"Where did this conversation take place?"

"In the airport at Moscow. They knew he was employed by me."

Valerie swallowed, trying to think. Tomorrow, she would be kidnapped, taken to The Fortress, and tortured. If she said yes. But she made herself nod. "Alright."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I am." Valerie shut her eyes. "Can you tell me anything about The Fortress?"

There was a rustling sound as he opened his briefcase, and took out some paper. "I have no map, and I can't draw one of much benefit, but if you'd like the general layout…"

"Wonderful!" Valerie opened her eyes quickly, leaning over.

"Around the border of the land they have guards stationed, probably about a quarter of a mile apart. They have dogs with them. There's one road that comes up from the south. Around the more immediate Fortress, there's a swampish area about half a mile wide. The road's the only safe way. Between the swamp and The Fortress, there's ten feet of safety for the guards. A patrol there, you understand. No way through."

Valerie studied the drawing, which was remarkably neat for a map made in a moving vehicle. "How far is it from the outer edge of this swamp to the border?"

"A mile. You're likely to run into nasty things along the way. Electric fences, mines, and so forth. The only safe route is the road, which they'll obviously guard closely." Quickly, he divided the actual Fortress into sections. "The prisoners are kept at the very center of the building, with five guards in the corridor, and five on every flight to the main floor, since it's three below ground. There's only one flight of stairs, and it comes out in the living quarters." He paused, making notes along the side.

"How many men are there?" Valerie studied the map carefully, starting to memorize it.

"About five hundred on an average, though they call in three times that if they feel nervous in about an hour's worth of time."

Valerie sighed. Great. She got out, and she'd have two thousand men looking for her in an hour.

"Anyway, you come out in the cafeteria. Past that are the rooms, all connected to a main hall way. There are five men in a room. At the end of that, is the office area in general, and then the main doors. The upper level is storage, as is the smaller building over here. It's connected by a hall, and runs into the office area. The lower floors are information, and the cells… and so on. The— the interrogation rooms."

Valerie waited for him to finish writing, and then met his eyes. "What kind of torture?"

He shut his eyes. "The head of this place has one of the sickest minds there has ever been. I'm sure whatever thinks up there will have been no way for you to prepare for it. I can guarantee it will be painful, and I can guarantee your thinking will change. He's very good with taking out all your mental stability. And um… there aren't any women in there. I'm sure—"

"I see." Valerie paused, and then took the map he held out. "Thank you. That will be all then."

"If there's anything you'll need help with, feel free to call. I can't promise, but I'll do my best, I assure you."

"Thank you." Valerie suddenly remembered something. "Is there any possible way for me to smuggle anything in? Anything? Something to kill my target with, and something to kill myself with, if I needed to?"

He leaned forward, rolling down the window, and telling the driver to head for Rivers' office. "No. I don't think so. You will be searched. _Very_ thoroughly searched. Your clothes will go in with you, and nothing else, pretty much. You might try strangling him. He'll be weak, I assure you. And if you want yourself dead, just pick a fight with a guard. Someone will be sure to shoot you once you start fighting."

"I see." She paused, and then looked back at him. "Why is this diamond significant?"

"It's worth an unimaginable sum. And people are greedy. Including myself, I suppose."

Valerie nodded. Greed. That's where she'd gotten all of her jobs from. People were greedy for power, and someone else was a threat to the power they had, and had power they wanted. People were greedy for money, and someone else had the money they wanted. People were greedy for fame, and someone else had the fame they wanted. And on it went.

The car slowed.

"Good luck."

Valerie nodded, opening the door. "Thank you." She took a deep breath, and stepped out, quickly shutting the door behind her before the bodyguard in the front seat could protest at any small breaches of security.

So.

Tomorrow she was going to walk into her death willingly. By torture from the Mafia. All over a diamond. A stupid diamond. She found strangely amusing, that lives would be sacrificed and used to get a diamond. Nothing was every yours forever.

But greed— greed was a powerful thing. It did things to people. This diamond must be beautiful and huge. It must be worth an enormous sum, as he had said. It must be unique.

Why else would people die over a stone?

Valerie laughed, shaking her head, got on her bike, and rode rapidly towards her apartment. She would have to memorize a lot of things tonight, and contact a few old friends, in case she never came back. She'd have to start trying to find The Fortress's weakness. Work on finding a way out of there. There would be a way out. Giver her time.

She did not notice the car that followed close behind her. A lapse in her vigilance. She was becoming too confident, or too careless. The man in the car made a note of that.

* * *

**This is neglected for a while— it'll come up later in the story. The man watching her is not from the Mafia… You'll see in a bit. He's a dangerous person, and he wants her dead… Heh. Don't forget him.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	3. The Tyrant

**I don't really have anything to say. Here— she meets Zane. And The Tyrant, obviously.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

Valerie stepped off the plane, apparently deep in conversation with the person on the other end of the phone. "I don't like this, though! The Mafia aren't people to be trifled with, sir! All Zane did was say the word: _diamond_, and poof— he was gone."

She allowed herself to be pushed along with the crowd, murmuring an '_excuse me_' to the man she bumped into, and pretending to listen to someone. "I know, but looking innocent isn't going to—" Customs. "Sorry. I'll call you later." She snapped shut the phone, which hadn't even been turned on to start with, and held out her passport.

Well… her false passport.

It was quickly stamped, and she moved on, hurrying out the doors to an available taxi.

At the hotel where Rivers had so nicely made a reservation for her, she went straight to her room, and had another pretend phone conversation, just in case anyone was listening, in which she made it quite clear she knew where the diamond was.

Then, she pretended to fall asleep, so that she could leave her clothes on.

* * *

An hour later, her window was opened. Someone climbed in quietly, and moved across the room to the bed. In a few deft movements she was gagged and tied with rather overdone knots.

By this time, she'd allowed herself to wake up, and was staring up at her captor in feigned shock and fear. Well— she did feel a little nervous, but it was only expected. He laughed, picked up her bag, and tossed it out to someone outside before picking her up, and handing her after it.

Valerie squirmed angrily, and only succeeded in getting herself dropped, which made her head hurt. Ah well though. She was going to The Fortress.

Into a car they went. And they drove. And they drove. And they drove. And they drove. She would have fallen asleep, but the car most certainly did _not_ have shocks, and every time she began to drift, a particularly hard jolt would wake her up again.

The night faded into morning finally, and she saw they were far from any city, deep into the country-side. They kept driving. And driving. And driving. And _driving_.

Night came again. Just as she had decided there would be another night in the car, they slowed, and the driver snapped a few words and numbers out in Russian. Valerie had no idea what he was saying. It didn't matter. They'd reached the border.

The car started again. A few minutes passed. They stopped again. Another password was given. Again they drove on. They stopped. Another password. They eased into a large garage, that held numerous other cars, and she was shoved out to be taken somewhere.

They went through the connecting hallway into the main office area, and she was escorted on through the living quarters and cafeteria to the stairs. They passed dozens of men, all who looked her up and down in a way she did _not_ like in the least bit.

She hadn't really understood what she'd been told about passwords. Now she did. Every few feet, someone called out something which she took to mean: "The password?", and the man steering her would snap out something different every time. Even were she able to pass herself of as a man— and a Russian, she'd never be able to memorize everything she'd need to get through the building safely. There was too much.

Downstairs, she was led into an extremely brightly lit room, and made to stand in an uncomfortable light. Somehow, it reminded her of a police interrogation room. What irony.

"Good evening."

Valerie said nothing. She stared straight ahead like a soldier at attention, adopting a military posture. The man in front of her— The Tyrant— was hard to see because of the light.

"Do be polite please. I said good evening."

Still Valerie said nothing. A man standing beside her casually raised his hand to hit her. Her foot snaked out, and he found himself sitting down rather hard a moment later.

Her interrogator laughed. "You're an amusing child. Very well. Be stubborn. I wonder what we have on you."

From the other side of the room came typing. "She's not in our files. I don't think anyone that young is. I'm amazed he'd send _her_. Are you sure she's not a decoy?"

"Is she? After all, you're the one who confirmed there was no one else he'd contacted coming in this week."

"There wasn't."

He turned back to her, raising a hand to dim a light that shone in her eyes. "What is your name?"

Valerie said nothing.

"Come now! Surely that is not too much to ask! It will make things easier for you. I simply wish to know a bit more about you. That's all. It will not be betraying your employer."

"You would find nothing on me," retorted Valerie in a clipped voice.

"My research is extensive. I believe I would."

"I believe you would not." Valerie twisted her body to avoid a fist from the obviously humiliated guard she had floored a few minutes ago. "I am _sure_ you would not."

He turned to the guard. "Please. Exercise control. Be a gentleman. Very well then. I propose a small bet. You tell me your business name, and if I find nothing on you, then you will be allowed to retire without further questioning, and I will admit defeat."

"And if I choose not to?"

"Then I will continue to question you until you have satisfied me."

Valerie straightened slightly. "Very well then. Agreed. My business name is Madam."

"Just Madam?"

"Just Madam."

He motioned to the one at the computer. "I have not heard of you. I'm surprised. I've heard about most everyone now. No doubt the computer has, however."

"It hasn't," answered the techie. "Are you sure it's her real name?"

"Should I be?"

"Sorry, sir."

Valerie shut her eyes against the light a moment, and then studied him closer. He reminded her of her employer. "I'm not widely known. I've been working only fourteen months. I am employed through an agent, though I suspect to be my own, sooner or later."

The Tyrant sighed. "My dear child, I'm afraid that's quite impossible. You see, you will never leave this place until you are in a body bag. Anyhow, you won the bet, and you will be escorted to your— room."

Valerie was taken down more stairs, a door was unlocked, and she was unceremoniously shoved into a small, dark room that smelled like metal of some kind. She stumbled over something— or rather, someone— and fell heavily on top of them.

A man swore in her ear. Something wet, and sticky touched her face. "Zane?"

He stiffened underneath her. Slowly, Valerie rolled off. "I'm sorry I fell on you."

"Who are you?" A hand brushed her arm, and he found her face, feeling it curiously. "I don't know you. How do you know my name? Why are you here? Who sent you?"

"The same reason you're here, if that means anything." Valerie pulled a lighter out of her pocket, which for some reason they hadn't taken away from her, and got a spark of light. The small instant she saw him was enough to make her fight not to retch.

He was covered with a sickening amount of blood, with deep gashes on his face. His shirt was gone, and there were burn marks on his chest, like someone had held a large candle's flame against his skin here and there, leaving oozing blisters behind.

"They haven't started you yet," he remarked.

"No. I won the bet. I wasn't in the database. I don't think I'm in anybody's yet." Valerie stood, flicking impatiently at her lighter again. The room was sparse. A small door about ten feet away spoke of the bathroom, and there was a small spout of water running into a hole in the floor in the corner. The concrete was smeared with blood.

She looked back at Zane. He seemed startled as he got a better look at her face. "You're only—"

"Only eighteen. I know. Everyone says that to me. Please don't go on about it to me." She reseated herself on the floor beside him. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Probably not." He sighed, and shut his eyes. "Why on earth would someone send _you_ though? No disrespect, but you don't look very capable, or anything. I just can't picture anyone hiring you."

"Are we being recorded?"

Zane waved a hand impatiently. "Probably. Which is probably why they put us together. Be careful what you say, alright?"

"I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say you were." He blinked at her, eyeing the lighter. "Why do you have that?"

"They didn't take it. Probably so I could look at you and be afraid." Valerie scooted across the floor, cupping one hand, and bringing it back to pour on his chest.

He jerked, startled by the coldness of it, and then settled, as it cooled his burns. "Thank you. If you could— would you mind bringing me a little to drink? They pushed me in, and I just collapsed. I don't think I can move. I couldn't if I wanted to."

Valerie gave him the lighter, and moved to the water as soon as she could see again. "What are they going to do to me? Or can't you guess?"

"No idea. As you can see, I'm in pretty bad shape from just a few days. And it hurts like hell. When you're in there, and they're asking questions, you don't think it's ever going to end." He struggled to lift his head enough to drink the water in her hands, ignoring it as it splashed out across his face. "Thank you. That's better."

"I talked to your brother."

"My brother?" he asked in wary disbelief.

"Two days ago. He doesn't really look like you." Valerie took the lighter, letting the flame go out, and rolling over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows.

"No. Not really." He rolled over with a gasp of pain. "Do you think— could you try to wipe off my back?"

Valerie flicked on the lighter again, and this time she did throw up. She couldn't help it. She was used to watching people die. And that didn't bother her. There wasn't that much blood and all. It was fast. But this— there was almost no skin left on his back. It was just a mass of bloody pulp with the bones sticking out here and there. How could someone do that to another person? It was sickening to _think_ about!

He turned to look at her as she wiped her mouth off. "Is it really that bad?"

"Worse," she whispered hoarsely. "But never mind. I'll try not to hurt you if I can." Slowly, she reached over and began to wipe away the dirt that had crusted here and there from the long hours he'd spent lying on the floor. His whole body quivered each time she touched him, but she forced herself to continue until most of it was gone.

"Thank you," he said with a wince, when she finally pulled away, letting their light go out. "If it gets infected— which I suppose it will anyway— it will hurt more."

Valerie hesitated, and then pulled her jacket off, and spread it out on the floor. "Roll over. My jacket should keep your back clean for now. You ought to give your burns some air as well." She helped him roll over, feeling bad that she was easing his pain only to kill him once he fell asleep. It was so hypocritical of her. She usually wasn't this way.

He settled with a grunt of suppressed pain, and lay still. Valerie stretched out on her stomach beside him, trying to go to sleep, but she couldn't. The air was hot, and stale— sticky feeling, and full of the metallic taste of blood. The darkness of thick. Too thick. Suffocating her. She didn't like it.

She shifted, trying to forget the fact that tomorrow she would feel pain. That in a few hours, she would have to throttle Zane. She'd never actually killed a person with her hands. Never that, actually. That was getting to close, and personal. You had to accept that you were murdering another human being. Bullets were easier. Faster. It wouldn't bother her to kill someone with her hands if they were actually enemies, and it was necessary— but he… was just… Zane.

Zane's fingers brushed her face, startling her into attentiveness. She'd thought him asleep by now. He must be exhausted after a day of tortures and questions. Carefully, he guided her head to his, surprising her with the strength still left in his arms and hands. He lifted his head, moving over her so that cameras would have no way to catch the movements of his mouth as he whispered in her ear, and the best enhanced sound they would get would be a garbled blur of which they could make no sense.

"What?" Obviously he wanted to say something no one should hear but herself. What he would tell her was what she was curious about.

It tickled as he pushed his face into her hair, but she lay still, waiting. She wondered what their observers were thinking. "They sent you here to kill me, didn't they?"

His voice was so soft, and so much of a sigh, that she hardly realized what he'd said for a moment. Her own thoughts were much louder, and much more demanding. Finally she did realize what he had said though, and went rigid, knowing she was hardly in any kind of position to fight him off, trapped underneath him like this.

This time he really did sigh. "I thought so. Do you actually know anything about… _it_?"

Cautiously, she shook her head. "Not— where it is. I know _what_ it is. Nothing more, really." She tried to speak as softly as he had, but didn't quite reach the perfection. Luckily, he'd foreseen the problem, and his hand blurred the sound to those listening.

"Hush," admonished Zane. "Alright then. That's good. Really quite clever of them to send you then. If you'd looked a hit woman, they'd have separated us two. You'd better kill me tonight. I don't want to have to take another round. I can't take many more."

Valerie frowned, and turned her face to whisper into his ear. "What about me?"

"Once they realize you killed me, and you never really knew anything, they'll shoot you and move on. It's not a big deal, really. You probably won't even be tortured. If you are, you can't reveal anything. They'll figure it out fast enough, and give up."

She was silent for a minute, thinking. "Fine. I'll wait until you're asleep, and then…"

"Kill me," finished Zane, as though it did not bother him.

"Yes." Valerie squirmed uncomfortably, and pulled away from him. She did not like the idea of killing him with her hands, nor how calm and professional he sounded.

Zane rolled back onto the jacket, and was asleep in a few minutes.

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**Heh. I'll bet you like me now, don't you?**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	4. Failure

**The plot thickens. I hope you all like it. This is a very interesting story to write. I think I have a tendency to all the people in the books who fight. Action keeps me interested in the story I'm writing, and helps me finish.**

**I heard about the review reply thing they're adding. I think I'll use it. It was smart of them to add it, if they're banning us from outright replies to reviews. If I can't keep up, I'm sorry, but I'll try.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

Valerie waited until his breathing was deep and regular, and then sat up, leaning over him. She could see nothing in the dark, but she could hear him, and sense where he was. Carefully, she found his throat, wrapping her hands lightly around it. 

She could feel the steady pounding of his heart now, and his breathing. He was so… _alive_ underneath her hands. She began to feel uneasy, and doubtful about killing him. It was so different this way! Nothing at all like pointing a gun and pulling the trigger. He was alive, and real. It had not been murder to her before. This would be murder, she knew, and she would never forget it. Zane. She'd gotten too personal.

Slowly, she began to squeeze. Zane hardly seemed to notice at first. She squeezed harder, moving on top of him so that he couldn't push her away when he became awake. He would know what was going on, and accept it almost, but the instinct for survival would be greater.

He jerked, suddenly awake, and his hands found her wrists, tearing at them. But only for an instant. They stopped, quite suddenly, and merely rested there. They were still tight though, and she knew he was alive, clinging to her as he died. Slowly, they began to loosen.

Sickness at what she was doing rose inside her. She pulled away, letting go before she should have, shaking. She wanted to throw up again. To cry like a little girl.

Zane coughed, and choked, and began to breathe again. It was reproachful breathing, reminding her that he shouldn't be. Reminding her that she had failed her job, and was weak, and that there would be consequences for what she had not been able to do.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I—"

He said nothing, but pulled her head down next to his so that they could talk without restriction. "I was almost dead. You should have held on. I was not fighting you."

"I know! But it's different Zane!" Her voice rose to a fierce whisper, kept safe by his hands and directed into his ear. "It's not like pulling a trigger! You're alive!"

"You'd have been doing us both a kindness. Dying by torture is not a pleasant thing."

"I'm sorry!"

Zane said nothing.

Valerie pulled away, and lay still, staring at the liquid blackness in front of her. She'd failed. She'd never failed any job before. And Zane was right. It would have been so much easier— for both of them. No fighting. No long and painful struggle.

Sorry wouldn't work. She'd have to find something better than that. Something to make up for what she'd done— or rather, what she hadn't done, and should have.

If there was no way into The Fortress, then there was no way out. Well— unless if they wanted you out. But they only wanted you out if you were dead, and she could fake knowing where a diamond was, but she couldn't fake being dead. It was too complete.

"Zane?"

He turned his head, but said nothing, still.

This time, she moved over him so that they could not be heard. "They'll know I tried to kill you. What are they going to say? What are we going to say to them?"

"Tell them there's a grudge between us. Refuse to talk about. They'll think lover's quarrel." He sighed. "Which would also explain why you didn't finish the job— you still harboring affections for me. Of course, then, they might try threatening torture to the other to get us to talk, but you must refuse. Talk as little as possible."

"I've never—"

"Never what?"

"I've never failed a job like I have this one. Once I was a day behind, but I threw out obstacles while I put on finishing touches, and nothing was the worse. But I… never failed before."

Zane nodded. "Everyone must fail. Some of us fail only once, which is our end. Others of us fail all the time— each time— and each time they fix a small failure so they may deal with another one."

"You sound old." Valerie forced back a laugh. It didn't fit with her identity at all.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"I'm not sure."

Valerie was silent for a moment. "Are you angry with me, Zane? For not killing you?"

He thought. "I'm not sure. Not angry with you. I just feel tired. I don't want to have to hold out any longer. I just want to die, and be done. It seems like I've been here forever."

"I _am_ sorry."

"I know. For yourself as well as me."

Valerie sat up suddenly, placing her hand over Zane's mouth. Listening as someone outside asked for a password. A moment of frantic silence. Then, a single shot, followed by a thud.

The guard had forgotten the password for a moment, and it had cost him his life.

The silence resumed.

Valerie lay back down beside Zane with a nod. "Alright. Zane?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to fail this job. I can't! I'm going to get us out of here somehow. Both of us, since I can't kill you, and I can't leave you here to get information wormed out of you."

Zane laughed bitterly. "Ha! Being funny, are we? You can't seriously think for a moment that it's possible to get out of here!"

"Why not?"

"Why _do_ you?"

Valerie muttered something priggishly. "I can do anything, Zane. I killed Trabar, my first job."

"Ha, ha. Very funny."

"I did."

"Look, maybe you did. But who you killed a year ago isn't going to get us out of here! Maybe you've got the hunting and stalking skills— but the breaking and stealing don't come with that."

"That's why you think." Valerie sat up, moving towards the sound of the running water so she could wash the blood off her hands. Her whole front was warm and sticky.

"That's what I know, and you're foolish to think otherwise."

"I'm different than the ones before me."

Zane sat up with a rustle. "How so? Give me one really good example. Tell me why you're different. Tell me how you're different. What makes you think you're better, and what makes you think you can succeed where hundreds of experts failed?"

"I'm a child." Valerie turned and came back. "Children think differently, Zane. They have this wonder, this curiosity, and this freshness. They challenge assumed truth."

This time, Zane did not argue with her. What she said was, supposedly, true. And really, she was a child. Only eighteen. It was ridiculous. What could she hope to do?

But Trabar— and she sounded so certain. Perhaps. He'd give her doubt. Nothing more.

"Lie down. You need sleep."

Valerie lay down beside him, curling up, and pulling his arm under her head for a pillow. There was a closeness between them now that came from being fellow prisoners and conspirers. She had tried to kill him, and she could not, so something else must be done. What that was, was yet to be decided, but it would be, and it would be soon.

"Good night, Zane."

"Good night." He obviously disapproved of this childish habit of saying good night, but she didn't care. She was a child, and she would be childish if she wanted to.

"Zane?"

"What _now_?"

"What time is it?" She shifted her head to farther down on his arm, not liking the smell of blood that saturated him.

He smacked at her. "Time to sleep. Now be quiet, and shut your eyes! Stop asking questions!"

"Why?"

"Because."

Valerie twisted around uncomfortably on the concrete. "When do we have to get up?"

"Whenever someone wants us up."

"Oh."

Zane muttered something under his breath, and turned his head away from her.

"Good night, Zane."

"Good _night_."

Valerie lay awake for a long time, reviewing what she'd been told about The Fortress and trying to find its weakness. All things had a weakness. Finding the weakness was the difficult part. They were well hidden. And The Fortress's weakness was very well hidden. As Zane had said, many had tried before her, and none had succeeded.

The key lay in thinking like a child. Children had absurd thoughts. Thoughts that were dismissed. If she could find the thing that no one thought possible, she must do that. It had gotten in her, hadn't it? No one could have guessed she had gotten herself captured on purpose. The idea was completely absurd. And so she'd won.

Zane presented a problem, however. He was weak. Well— strong, but considerably weakened by his injuries. Overexertion would finish him. She must find a way around that as well.

She rolled over, and nudged him.

He jerked, stiffening, as he realized it was her, and wondering what she wanted.

Carefully, she rolled over on top of him, cupping her hands around his ear. "Do you speak any Russian, Zane? Can you understand them when they talk? Anything?"

"No," he said shortly. "Now I'm tired! Let me sleep!"

Valerie pulled away grumbling, and feeling even farther from a solution to the problem. If neither of them understood Russian, they wouldn't be able to know how much their enemy knew, or listen in on conversations, or make it out of the country without being noticed. Two persons who couldn't speak Russian, one horribly wounded would not be ignored. The moment they were sighted, the Mafia would come running.

But perhaps— perhaps there was an advantage in that. If it was not even considered as a possibility, who would be prepared for it? It must be something they weren't prepared for. A surprise…

The obvious. She must do something so obvious, that no one would see it. But what? That was the difficult part of doing the so obvious that no one saw it. It was difficult to see yourself. Not until later. Afterwards, it would seem so simplistic, and she would wonder why she had not thought of it earlier.

The stupidest thing she could do. What could she do that would break every single law and assumed truth that anyone had ever made?

Her train of thoughts were interrupted by the clicking of heels against the tile floor outside the door. This time, the password came snappily and confident. No shot.

The door opened, and light flooded into the room, half blinding her for an instant.

"You will come with me, Madam." The voice was guttural, and the words slurred. She was fairly certain the man didn't even know what he had said, other than that it conveyed the command to follow him. He'd probably been taught it a few minutes ago.

Zane woke up squinting against the glare. Valerie automatically shielded his eyes, waiting for any kind of signal from him.

"You will come with me, Madam!" He sounded agitated, perhaps worried that he'd said a word wrong, and told her something other than what he was supposed to.

"Go," whispered Zane. "Remember what I told you."

The cameras would hear most likely, but they would not know what he had told her, and the man would not know.

Valerie nodded, and got to her feet, moving to the door.

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**I'm glaring very hard at certain ones of you through my computer screen! There are always people who have me on their favorites list, or on story alert, and yet do not review. They had better. And if you're guilty, you know what I'm talking about.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	5. Games

**This chapter is slightly interesting. You may be skeptic, you may not. Anyway, later in the story, background information will be provided that will make this seem more reasonable.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

"Hello, Madam." The Tyrant stood as she entered the room, waving her towards a chair. "I noticed you didn't sleep well last night. I hope you're feeling well."

"So do I." Valerie seated herself stiffly, and waited, staring straight ahead, and consciously wiping any signs of emotion off her face.

"Do you know Zane?"

"We work for the same person." Valerie wondered how far she could push him. Images of Zane's back crept into her mind. The burns on his chest. The blood smeared across the floor. How long until the same thing was done to her? She barely repressed a shudder.

"Do you know him though?"

"I know him."

He leaned forward with a frown. "Well?"

"How would you define: well?" Valerie refused to meet his eyes, but continued to stare straight ahead.

"Are you friends?"

Valerie shrugged. "Perhaps."

"You tried to kill him last night. Are you really working for the same person? Has he really hired you for the same reasons? Are you enemies?"

"Perhaps."

The man on the other side of the room turned from his computer. "Were you hired to kill Zane?"

"Do I look like a hit woman to you?" Valerie let a hint of anger cross her face, and then hastily erased it. "Do you know how _old_ I am, man? I do have _some_ moral standards!"

"Why did you attempt to murder him?"

"I didn't."

With a sigh of annoyance, The Tyrant stood, and walked across the room to look at a computer screen. "I used the word attempt, Madam. You most definitely did attempt to take his life. You almost did. Almost throttled him. And then you let go. Why?"

"Why what?"

For a moment, she was sure she'd gone too far— been too insolent. But then he said, "Why did you try to kill him?"

"We… had a fight of sorts."

"Recently?"

"A few years ago." Valerie allowed herself to squirm uncomfortably. This was supposed to be a touchy subject for her.

The computer person frowned. "You haven't ever been in contact with him before. How could you have had a fight a few years ago, woman— excuse me, Madam?"

"You don't keep as close tabs on him as you do his employer, do you? Besides, I wasn't even in your files! We haven't been near each other for… quite a while."

"Why not?"

Valerie squirmed again. "Because…"

"Why didn't you finish killing him?" The Tyrant asked abruptly.

Valerie looked away.

"Why not?"

"I couldn't," mumbled Valerie shamefacedly.

Silence for a moment. Her interrogator thought, observing her embarrassment. "You love him."

Valerie was truly embarrassed by such a blunt statement. Of course she didn't love him, and it made her slightly angry as well. She flushed without thinking.

Perfect.

He smiled, thinking he now knew the truth. "You two loved each other. You two quarreled. You get your chance for revenge. You try to kill him. You can't. Interesting."

The man at the computer took notes furiously, muttering and mumbling to himself over something.

"I assume then that neither of you wanted that known, and so pretended not to recognize the other when you were first thrown into the cell." He paused, thinking. "Was this all planned? Did Zane know that you were going to come in after him for the diamond? Did your employer think that we would let down our guard?"

"Would he have _told_ me?"

"I'm not sure. Did he?"

"No. I didn't know. Maybe Zane knew. I don't know, though." Valerie shrugged again, hoping that he wouldn't keep asking questions on this topic and expose her lie. If he did everything they had would be lost.

Her eyes began to wander, presumably in embarrassment. Actually, she was memorizing the room, hoping to be able to find a way out of it.

"There's no way out of here," he said with obvious amusement. "Many people have tried to get in. The only ones who do get in are those who don't want to. The only ones who go out are the ones we give permission to leave, and the ones in body bags."

Valerie pursed her lips in disdain, and said nothing.

"About the diamond though." He returned to his seat. "Of course you aren't going to tell me where it is right away. That's obvious. You do have a slight bit of obstinacy in you."

She snorted.

"But protocol, of course, demands that I warn you of the pain you will go through if you do not choose to tell me everything you know about it. Trust me, when I say it won't be pleasant. I understand that you are in the employment of a powerful man, who will no doubt be angry. I am fully capable of hiding you, however."

"But you wouldn't," murmured Valerie calmly. "You could, but if I told you, you'd just kill me. There would be no point in me living, and no point in letting me go."

"Oh, but there would be! As a warning. Who then would attempt to fight with me? The Mafia?"

Valerie smiled her most unnerving smile. "I don't think you realize what you are up against."

The sudden silence in the room told her she'd done it perfectly. They would believe now that she held a card they had not even guessed at.

"What do you… mean?"

Valerie said nothing.

"Explain!" His voice was angry now. Good. Let him be. If he was angry, his imagination would win over logical thinking, and he would hinder himself by complicating things.

"Explain!" Louder this time.

Valerie leaned back in her chair, and deliberately shut her eyes, knowing this would increase his anger.

He rose abruptly, snapping something at the guard at the door in Russian. The door opened. The guard called to someone outside, stepping out as he did so. Valerie waited.

A few moments later, she was plucked out of her chair, and jostled down the hall to another room by a guard. Behind her, The Tyrant and his techie followed, talking in low voices. She was certain now that the techie did not know Russian. He sounded American almost in his accent. Perhaps— no, it wouldn't do to trust anyone.

She racked her brain for an answer in frustrated silence, barely noticing the guards and hall and stairs. She noted their entrance to another room in a detached sort of way, and went back to thinking about a way out, letting the guard carrying her drop her into a chair.

"Will you explain?" The Tyrant's voice sliced into her thoughts, interrupting at an inconvenient moment. She felt that she had almost reached a solution, and then lost everything, including the thoughts that had led her closer to the path out of The Fortress.

Valerie scowled reprovingly at him. "No, I will not." It was ridiculous! Why did he bother asking?

"I thought I'd ask," he returned agreeably.

"What will it be?" asked the techie from his seat at another computer.

Disgust twitched the corner of Valerie's mouth. _What will it be?_ As thought torture was a meal, waiting to be dished up. Where was Zane? Perhaps they would wait with him, and test her strengths first. Then they would know how to proceed with things.

The Tyrant studied her carefully for a full minute. "The crusher," he said finally. "Try the hands. Just in case it was herself that she warned us about. It will disable her."

The crusher. It did not sound particularly pleasant. Valerie began to remove herself. Focus on nothing. Find your _chi_, cling to that, and let your body fade away. It is not important.

She barely heard the hum of a motor as one of the guards guided a machine across the room. Cold metal touched her hand. Valerie forced herself not to notice it. It wasn't there. She no longer felt it. Good. Her father would have been proud of her. She was handling herself beautifully.

"Will you explain?"

Valerie paused, collecting herself, and opened her eyes to slits. "I'm afraid not."

"Very well. If at any time you agree to cooperate with me, I will stop the pain." Protocol. How childishly ridiculous! It was tradition though, and so it was continued. But of course she knew the rules— how things worked! It was always the same.

She felt the metal again, as it tightened on her hand. Valerie shut her eyes tightly, and wiped away the feeling in her hand so that it was almost a separate limb. Her breathing. She was careful to keep it in check, breathing deeply and evenly.

This other hand— this hand that was not part of her began to feel squished and uncomfortable. Let it.

"Will you explain?" The voice was farther away now. Valerie did not trouble herself to answer. If she did, she would begin to feel the pain in her hand, and have to wrestle harder to get it back under control.

_Often people who suffer astounding injuries do not feel them for quite some time. The body secretes a drug that can, for a while, entirely block off pain. Most people do not know this. To control your pain, you must first learn how to control this drug. _Valerie smiled to herself. Her father was so helpful. He knew so much. He had taught her so much too! But it had gotten him killed. Someone from Japan— an old enemy— had finally found him. They had not wanted all of his knowledge imparted, and because they could not control him, they had killed him instead. They feared him. That was why.

She'd never quite understood what had happened there. Why he had come to the US with her mother shortly before she was born. It was to hide, of course. She wasn't sure what from, though.

_Do not distract yourself. Deal with it while it is manageable._ Valerie sighed inwardly, and thought about the pain in her hand. If she wasn't letting her mind feel it, her body was. Her whole arm was twitching in helpless nerve spasms. She forced it to stop.

"Will you _explain_, Madam?" The fury in his voice was amusing. He could do all he wanted, but nothing would persuade her to speak. He would know it soon, and he would only be able to kill her. She was useless to him unless she gave him the information he wanted.

"Do you think I would?" She had tight control of the pain now, and opened her eyes, looking calmly at him.

His eyes flickered hastily to the machine. He'd never seen anyone act like this under torture. It was like she couldn't feel it! Perhaps— there was a handful of people on the world with twisted genes. Persons who could not feel any pain at all. But surely…

There was a loud crackling sound, as her bones finally began to give under the pressure of the metal plates. The crusher. So appropriately named. Valerie forced herself to watch it happening, knowing this would unnerve The Tyrant even more.

"What a shame," she sighed. This would be most amusing, if she did it right. _Never let anyone be certain of who you are. Always let them be changing their mind. That way, they cannot plan for you, and they cannot predict you. They must never be able to predict you. In this lies your safety. _"It was a good hand. I'll have to grow a new one."

She almost felt all of them freeze. The Tyrant. The techie. The guards. Most of them did not understand her, but they felt the tension her remark had generated around them.

The Tyrant took a half step backwards, staring at her in horror. "What _are_ you?"

Valerie smiled sweetly. Oh this was good! But she _still_ didn't have a way out of here! Ah, well. "I'm sure you'd like to know."

He spun around, and sat down in his chair, waving a hand at the guards. He shouted something at them in Russian. Probably telling them to take her back to the cell. She was, at any rate.

* * *

**Funny. In a deadly kind of way. I like to mess with people's minds. You're probably all rolling your eyes, and thinking no one could deal with that. Just wait. You'll find out why she's special later. She doesn't like to talk about it though, so it'll be about half way through before you find out.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	6. The Impossible

**I know this is getting odder and odder, but please suspend belief a while longer. This is technically possible. :)**

**Also, I recently got a review from a person without an account who brought up something I got very angry about. An Artemis Fowl fic does _not_ have to have Artemis Fowl in it! (&(?#) Madam Ko is a character in the Artemis Fowl series, and if you hadn't figured that out... grr. And also, I'm sorry if chapter four was a little much. This stuff seems normal for me(as in definitely exaggerated and dramatized past recognition) because I've seen it. Blood and gore doesn't bother me anymore. (and no, I'm not writing a biography here)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

She entered the cell in silence, noting that Zane had not been removed, in the sliver of light the open door allowed for an instant. She had assumed right, then. They had wanted to test her first. 

The Tyrant had gotten more than he'd bargained for, no doubt about it. His own imagination would do the rest. Perhaps he thought her alien now. Not human. It didn't matter though. He would complicate things for himself, make a mistake, and show her the way out.

"Are you alright?" There was a hint of worry in Zane's voice. She should be making _some_ noises of pain.

"I'm fine." Valerie pulled her lighter out of her pocket with her left hand, and flicked at it until she got a small flame. "Do you think I could burn this pulp off? It'll get in my way."

"What—" He stopped abruptly, staring at her hand as she crouched down beside him, and held it up in the light.

"The crusher. I found it amusing, really. Torture is such a trivial thing. It's amazing what you humans make out of it." Valerie forced herself not to laugh. Let The Tyrant and his techies think about that!

She let the light went out, and leaned over him. "I've thoroughly spooked him. Play along, will you?"

Zane sighed. "I know. You shouldn't have, though. I suppose it's safe to talk then?"

Valerie thought an instant. What would they think she'd whispered to him? Who knew. Oh well, though. Any number of things could have been said. The unknown fueled fears. "It was necessary. But let us discuss more important things. It doesn't matter if they know what we're saying, anyway."

"You know the way out?"

"Of course. Soon, preferably." Valerie held up the lighter, and began to examine his burns and cuts. "Give me a bit more time. It makes no difference in the long run."

"What is your plan?"

Here, thought Valerie, The Tyrant and his minions would crouch over screens in eager anticipation. "Destroy this place of course. It will be an annoyance later on, you know." Ha! Let them sweat over _that_! The Tyrant would be hasty about protecting himself, and do it clumsily.

Zane seemed to recognize that she was playing with their captors. He merely smiled, and said nothing.

"Alright." Valerie slipped the lighter into her pocket, and stretched out beside him as she'd done the night before, in case she wanted to confer with him in a bit. "Go to sleep now, Zane. Tomorrow will definitely be busy, and you're extremely tired."

Zane yawned, and settled, quickly falling asleep.

Valerie did not, however. A way out… She _must_ find a way out! There were so many things she could do, and none of them looked as if they would work. They were too _complicated_! She wanted something so simplistic, that everyone would have forgotten about it.

Her hand ached now. She was losing her grip on her pain. She tried to regain total control, but it did not come. Her body must be rationing the pain. It was running out of the suppressant. Ah well. It wouldn't matter if she couldn't created a plan.

Outside, she heard voices. The guard had been added to. She smiled slightly. If she really was what she had made them believe she was, then a larger guard would be quite unable to stop her. If she wasn't what she said she was, then it didn't matter. It amused her that they bothered. Did they think she would be so stupid as to try to fight her way out of The Fortress? Or that—

Fight her way out! Valerie's mind reeled at the revelation. But of course! Who would be so stupid? It could not have occurred to them, so she must do it! But—

Quickly, she began to come up with solutions to the minor problems. The small pieces filled in the cracks between the bigger ones. The perfect simplicity of her plan!

The Tyrant would want them questioned together, tomorrow, to see how they responded in the other's presence. They couldn't risk another day of torture. They might be too weak. "Zane! Zane! Wake up!" She tugged on his arm furiously. "Wake up, Zane!"

Zane started awake, grasping her shoulders tightly. "What's the matter? What's wrong?"

Valerie leaned over him, pushing her face up against his ear. "I know that way out! I've finally thought of it! It's so simple, Zane! So absurdly _simple_! We'll be out soon."

She could almost feel his stare, even in the darkness. "You… really mean it?"

"Of course! But promise you'll trust me and do what I say! I haven't got time to explain it all now! I expect they'll be coming any moment! You _must_ copy me!"

For an instant, he was silent. Then, he nodded. "Very well. What should I do first?"

"In a moment, you must get up. Be ready to fight, Zane! Be ready to fight them! We must take their weapons, and fight our way out of here! We'll steal an aircraft!" Valerie was literally shaking with excitement. She would be so incredibly famous!

"Impossible," said Zane flatly. "It _is_ absurd!"

"Which is why it will work." Valerie sat up, all pain forgotten in the thrill of suddenly _knowing_ the answers. "How would you like to die, Zane? Already they are debating over whether or not to send the guards in here. Don't you see? Now stand up!"

Zane hesitated, and then allowed her to help him to his feet, biting back a groan. "What about your hand?"

"I can't feel pain right now, Zane. I'll feel it when I have nothing more important to do. Now be ready!" She pulled him towards the door with marked assurance which worried him. How could anyone put their hope in such an utterly foolish plan? She was right though. Better to die this way and reveal nothing. Much better.

Valerie turned suddenly, talking to the concrete wall behind them. "Oh yes. Be warned then— only one of us knows where your precious _Flame of the Gods_ is. I advise you to be cautious which one of us you eliminate. Be very cautious. We are not dispensable."

The door opened.

Valerie instantly became Madam. She whirled, missing the door smoothly. Her foot came up in a precise arch, almost crushing the head of the nearest man. He hands loosened their grasp on his gun, and Madam wrenched it from him before he could drop it, shooting two others in the head.

Oh yes, her left hand wasn't quite so good, but she'd trained it. In dangerous business, if you injured your enemy's right hand, you could assume yourself safe. Madam would not let this be her weakness. She'd taught herself how to do everything with her left hand alone. Her aim was still deadly. Especially at this close range.

Zane had been slightly slower in responding, but he'd managed to fell two of the men, and grab a few weapons. This was ridiculous, but the element of surprise was definitely strong. This girl was interesting. Very interesting. She bore studying, that was for sure.

The men— they had been completely unprepared. It was an impossible idea— that anyone would try to fight their way out of The Fortress, yet that was what was happening.

Madam snatched up a last gun, a pouch of bullets, a few knives, and a lump of something with a fuse sticking out of the end. It might be useful later. "Here!" She hastily presented Zane with a knife, and tucked everything else into her jacket, which she had picked up off the floor when he'd stood. "Come on! Fast, Zane! Fast!"

Suddenly, Zane caught her rhythm. It might be possible! Escape _might_ be possible! He pounded down the hall after her, not feeling the pain his movements should be inflicting.

Her shots rang out in front of him, steady, and practiced. Then, she began to fall back. "Two more left, Zane. You shoot then, and I'll reload! There're about five hundred men!"

He did not ask how she knew this, or question her figure. He moved up ahead of her, taking over the shooting as her last two shots rang out. For an instant, she paused, catching up three heavy bullet pouches, and adding them to the one she already had. Then, she was loading.

His last shot. Immediately, she started shooting, moving close enough to him so that he could grab one of the bullet pouches. Her right arm and hand she kept folded across her body, out of the way.

Zane began loading his gun, keeping his eyes on the passage ahead. None of them seemed to know what was happening. It must all be very confusing for them, he mussed. Why would any sane person try to escape The Fortress? And two of them! By force!

He scooped up another bullet pouch, and took over the shooting. These stupid old fashion guns! If only there were machine guns! Or submachine gun! It would be so much easier.

The stairs.

They ran up along the inside rail after sealing the door behind them. Anyone on that floor would not be able to get out for a quite a while. People would be too busy to let them out. This, of course, would mean that no one could come up behind them, and cause problems there.

A grim smile on her face caught his attention. Funny. He didn't even know her name. She had a right to smile though, because she was right. If you thought absurd ideas, as a child would, you could win. Who would have guessed they'd try this tactic? It would never have occurred to him! It was ridiculous! And it was working.

If they got out of here alive, she would be the most sought after woman in the criminal circles. Even if they didn't, she'd be the best remembered. Trabar, first of all. Then getting into The Fortress and disrupting its stern discipline with her surprises.

Up, up, up they went, shooting the guards, and sealing the doors off at the landings. No one must be left to open those doors for the people inside, and no one must be allowed to sneak up behind them.

Madam thought about the lump in her pocket with it's fuse. Some kind of explosive. Probably very dangerous. How to handle it now… perhaps if they were cornered—

The lighter. Touch that to the end, and threaten not to put it out unless they had their way through. Perfect. No one would argue with that.

Anyway, the uncertainty of who knew the whereabouts of the diamond guaranteed their lives.

They heard chaos then. Men shouting, and guns going off. What was this? Madam thought a moment. Ah— the cafeteria. The stairs would end here. Where could they go? It would be suicide to try to run through that and the living quarters! All those rooms— on every side they'd have men trying to kill them or catch them.

There was an upper floor, but she couldn't remember where the stairs were. He hadn't drawn it in. Damn! He'd mentioned them— she thought. He'd probably assumed that if she got out, she wouldn't want to trap herself anywhere. Hopefully they were nearby.

"Zane?" she gasped, breathing hard from both running and exhilaration. "We're almost to the cafeteria. One set of stairs up. There'll be too many of them. We have to take the stairs up the next level, and seal ourselves off! I have a plan for after that. Trust me!"

"This is ridiculous!" He slowed an instant to grab another pouch of bullets. "How—"

"Just wait. I have a plan. I got us out of the cell, Zane. I'll get us out of The Fortress. Alive."

Zane shook his head, but she knew he would follow her lead. She could only hope her guesses were right. Things were happening too fast, and she had no time to stop and think. She could only go with what she had thought before, and what seemed most probable.

Valerie fell back behind him as they began their last flight of stairs, and pulled the lump of explosives out of her pocket, unwinding the fuse. Then, the lighter.

* * *

**I like this book. It's going to long… I've already written close to 100 pages.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	7. Eighteen Seconds

**I wonder if these notes are really necessary. Probably not. I never read other people's notes. But I like to write them anyway. I got second place at an oratory competition. Don't feel sorry for me though, because I got a lot of money, it was really close, and I don't have to stress about going on to the next level which is really difficult. And it was fun.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

The men were waiting for them at the top, where they'd at last managed to get a pretense of order. They saw Zane first, and wondered how he'd gotten so far, with such a great loss of blood, and in so much pain.

Then, they saw the little girl. Really, she did look like a little girl— only about five feet tall, and with deceptively innocent eyes. Her right hand had been crushed to pulp, but she did not seem to know it.

For a moment, they paused, half wondering if their had been some mistake. There had been, but the mistake was in waiting. Madam quickly tucked the lump under her good arm, and held the end of the fuse between two of her fingers, half an inch from the flame of her lighter. "One of you— where is the stairs to the next floor?" Someone in the room would know English. It was taught often in foreign countries.

A man pointed to the right without thinking, and was instantly knifed down by someone behind him.

Madam smiled knowingly, and motioned Zane onward. "Very well. We will proceed. If any of you decides to come to close, I will touch the end of the fuse to my flame. I'm sure you know the results better than I do. They would not be good ones."

Slowly, the men began to step back, giving them room to walk, not willing to risk the explosion. The whole idea of what would happen if they got in the way was pretty obvious, even to those with no idea of what she was saying. The explosion would be _huge_.

To Valerie's relief, the entrance to the upper level stairway was but a few feet from the lower level entrance. They hurried into it's shelter, and Zane hastily sealed the doors.

"Alright, now what?" He stared at her tiredly. "Now what do we do?"

"Keep going." Madam turned, listening intently. "There aren't many people we will have to deal with here. Trust me, Zane! I will get us out of here alive. We have work to do!"

"What work?"

Madam shook her head in annoyance. "Have you forgotten why you were sent to Russia in the first place?"

Zane stared at her in open horror. "You cannot seriously be thinking that we should do anything other than leave the country with all speed! This is ridiculous! Absurd!"

"Which is why we will do it," said Madam pettishly. "I like doing ridiculous things, Zane. You should know this by now!"

Slowly, Zane turned, shook the tiredness out of himself, and hurried upwards, Madam close behind him. He would have to trust her. He had, and he was alive, after all.

The guards on the upper floor had not anticipated them, that was obvious. They were slow in reacting, and some were not ever aware that they were there until they came around a corner.

Finally, they stopped, now certain that everyone of any threat on their floor was dead. Below, though, they could hear the men, working on the doors. They would not hold for much longer. Madam frowned at this. Surely The Tyrant would have opened the doors for his men! Unless—

He was a coward, this Tyrant. She was sure of it. No doubt he had already left the building, afraid that she would carry through with her idle threat to destroy it.

Perhaps he was waiting for them— waiting to follow them, just in case they went to get the diamond that he so desperately wanted to own for himself. If so, problems could arise.

Madam shook her head and looked up, knowing their best course of action would be to get out of the building. Once they were on the roof, they could map out a way of escape. And the men would not know where they were for a while. They could see the men coming. It was a good idea. She motioned to Zane to follow, and led the way on.

They went to one of the outer rooms, one full of boxes of weapons and such, and she peered out. The guards were gone from their posts, no doubt called into the building to help overcome the escaped prisoners. She was certain that no one in The Fortress would ever live this day down.

When they spoke of being a man of The Fortress, people would snicker behind their backs. Oh yes— The Fortress— supposedly the most secure place in the world. Its security had been breached by a little girl, and a man tortured for days. Ha!

Madam opened the window suddenly, and looked up. The roof was so close! If they could just reach that…

She looked towards the transportation storage area. She smiled. On top, were three helicopters. These were slightly farther away, but they were very convenient. Perfect.

"Zane? Those helicopters— can you operate one?"

He sighed, and shut his eyes a moment. "Yes, but… I don't think I can get over there. I hurt like hell! And I'm so damn _tired_!"

"I'm sorry. We have to though."

"How?" It wasn't just a question, it was a challenge. Madam accepted the challenge.

"Climb down to the hallway between this building and that. Then, walk across, climb up, break in, hotwire it, and fly away. Easy. In theory. But we can do it, Zane. I know we can! We're so _close_!" She almost sounded angry here. A little desperate.

Zane nodded tiredly. "Alright. Fine. You go first, and I'll follow you. I'm too tired to lead, and I'm make a mistake."

"You can sleep soon, Zane. I promise." Valerie studied the roof of the hallway. It was almost six feet below her. A jump might be heard, and if they were heard— She shook her head.

"You go first, and I'll help lower you so you don't make a loud thud. Then, you can pull me out, and I'll shut the window behind me."

"That's—" He broke off.

"Ridiculous?" She smiled. "Of course. Absurd? I know. Good, better, best, Zane. That is what we want. Surely you've learned this by now? It works almost every time!"

"Fine," he muttered. He gave up. The woman had been right, and she was no doubt right again. "Let's go."

Slowly, he climbed up on the window sill, studying the roof below. It was farther down than it looked. With a sigh, he turned, and grabbed her good arm with one hand, and the window sill with the other. "Are you sure you can hold my weight?"

"Of course. Now hurry up!" She leaned over, lowering him more. "How close are you?"

"Two more feet."

Madam gritted her teeth in impatience, and leaned almost all the way out of the window, letting go off him as his weight lessened. "Has anyone spotted you, Zane?"

Zane paused, looking around cautiously. There were no guards in sight. He could hear them though. They were going wild inside the building. "We're good. Swing down; I'll catch you."

"You'd better," muttered Madam threateningly. She turned around, and was out of sight for a moment.

"Hurry up!"

Madam reappeared, glaring at him. "I'm _coming_!" She swung herself out of the window on her left hand, pushed it most of the way closed, and did a rather clumsy drop, broken by his waiting arms. "Right. I think they've broken through the door."

Zane swore under his breath, but turned and ran after her. He could hardly believe it! It was incredible! It had officially been accepted as fact that it was impossible to break into The Fortress eight years ago, when a world renowned thief had failed. And she— she was only eighteen! And look how far they'd come! They'd gone in, and come out!

Elation welled up inside him. They would make the big news, _that_ was for sure.

Madam glanced back, shaking her head. "It'll take them a while, I imagine— to figure out where we are. I left out door open, and locked another on the opposite side."

"Where'd you learn this stuff?" He slowed to a stop beside her, and looked up towards the roof. "Who taught you?"

For an instant, she looked at him, almost angrily. Then, she glanced down at her watch. "Come on. We've got to go faster! How can we get up there? Is there any way you can lift me up?"

"Probably." Zane shook his head. Trust him to hit her one touchy subject without trying. Still, he wondered though. He'd never heard a professional criminal with her philosophy. It was an interesting one. Become like a little child. The absurd, ridiculous, and impossible things are often the most likely to work, because no one expects them.

Madam nodded, and turned around. "Then hurry up! When don't have all _day_!"

"I thought you said you'd detained them." Zane wrapped his hands around her waist, and hoisted her up over his head, surprised by how light and tiny she was to hold.

"I did." Madam grunted, and pulled herself up on her one good arm with painful slowness. "Unfortunately, it's not going to last for forever. One of them will look out a window, and see us over here. Then, they'll come after us, shooting on the way, because The Tyrant left the building. But then again, perhaps they don't know that yet."

Zane tested the wall with his boots, and decided it would be so bad. "Then how do you know?"

"He didn't unlock the doors for them and let them out." She lay down on her stomach and reached over the edge far enough for him to grab on. "Please hurry up, Zane!"

Grumbling at her impatience, Zane grabbed her arm, and walked up the side of the wall onto the roof. If she was bothered by the crushed hand at all, it still wasn't much of a handicap. She'd done pretty well with her left hand. Unless that was her dominant hand. "Can I ask a really odd question for the moment? Are you left-handed?"

Madam stopped, half way to her feet, giving him a look that told him exactly what she thought of 'really odd questions for the moment. "No, I'm not. I'm right-handed."

"You do… very well with your left hand." Zane looked away, angry with himself for feeling guilty. It was ridiculous! He felt like a small child who'd done something _wrong_.

Madam turned, and hurried to the nearest helicopter, checking to see if it was locked.

It was.

Zane sighed. "Now what?"

"Shut up!" Madam bent, and squinted at the lock a moment. "Three tumblers. Is there anything around here that I can pick it with?"

"No."

_This close!_ Madam wanted to scream. _We're this close, damn it! _The men would figure it out any minute. There _had_ to be something they could do! She looked around the roof franticly, wishing more than anything now, that she had her keys. Even something to _pick_ it with! It wasn't as if it was an extremely difficult lock.

She turned in a slow circle. Nothing.

"What do you want me to do?" Zane leaned against the copter, waiting. This was her job. He was going to worry about it. She'd gotten them this far, after all. He was sure she'd figure it out.

"I want you to start thinking!" She pounded a fist against the copter window in frustration. "Only keep your mouth _shut_ while you do it!"

Zane shrugged, and looked back towards the building. What were they supposed to do? It was amazing they'd come this far, even. He'd have never thought—

Madam let out a cry of anger: almost a sob, and ran across the roof to the trapdoor leading down into the main building, checking her watch as she did so. "Hurry up, Zane!"

"Why?"

"We don't have much more time!" She beckoned him towards her urgently, watching the building behind him with worried eyes.

Zane jogged to her, and followed her down the steps. "What's the hurry?"

"Oh— It's just that room was full of explosives, and I attached as many fuses as I could to a timer, and set it for five minutes."

He froze. "A _roomful_?"

"Yes."

"And how long has it been?"

"About four minutes and forty-two seconds."

* * *

**BOOM! Hee hee… I had to scare you. They can't blow up yet, of course, so it'll be okay.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	8. Even Children

**It's about five in the morning, and I have to go to school in a couple of hours. (at the time I'm going over this. It won't be updated for a few more hours) Luckily for you, I didn't write this chapter this early. I got carried away writing one day, and wrote until twelve, and then I started typing slower… and slower… and slower… I couldn't think rationally at all. Never attempt to write anything that people actually read when you should be sleeping. This doesn't count though, because no one reads these anyway.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

The words that came out of Zane's mouth after that weren't pleasant. They didn't hinder him from speed, however, and he moved surprisingly well for a man who'd been tortured several days, and was sleep deprived.

Madam almost fell down the rest of the stairs; only her grip on the railing kept her from falling. "Don't push me, Zane!"

"You're not going fast enough!" He picked her up, and carried her the rest of the way down, saying things in Portuguese she was glad she didn't understand. She had no idea where he'd learned those words though. He was certainly American.

Zane kicked open the door, and hurled them across the room and under a car with extra large wheels.

Three.

Madam crossed her fingers and hoped most of the men were killed in the explosion so that they had less to deal with. If at least half of the men left died, they'd be almost sure to get out alive.

Two.

Zane pulled her closer against him, and rolled onto his side, facing away from the other building.

One.

Madam shut her eyes.

Boom.

The explosion was enormous. The jolt from it cracked both of their heads against the underside of the car, and then the concrete when they came back down. Dust filled the air. Lights broke. Madam smelled smoke.

"We have to get out of here! _Now_!" Zane choked as he spoke, and carefully rolled out from underneath the car. "Where do you think the keys to the copters are?"

"We're not going to take a copter." Madam rolled out after him, and opened the car door. Why would anyone lock a car? "That's what they'd expect us to do. Let's take a car instead."

"But Russia's huge! That's—" He stopped.

Madam smiled. "Ridiculous, I know. Now get in! You're driving."

Zane hesitated, and then climbed inside, sliding over into the driver's seat. The keys were sitting in a tray. How ridiculously _easy_. The Tyrant was overly confident, that was for sure. "Why am _I _driving?"

"Because you know where the diamond is." Madam slammed the door. "Let's make history, shall we, Zane?"

He turned the keys in the ignition with smile that showed a lot of teeth. "Yes. Let's."

They shot out thought one of the doors that was open and along the road. Madam looked back at The Fortress through her rearview mirror. It was in shambles. Literally. She hadn't seen something that bad since pictures from the atomic bomb in fifth grade. The copters had been pretty well destroyed by flying debris.

"Do you think we should go off road?" Zane frowned, eyeing the trees that towered over them on either side. It seemed awfully damp. The trees were too thick to go off here, anyway.

"No!" Madam's head shot up in alarm. "Whatever you do, stay on the road, Zane! It's the only safe way out of here!"

Zane nodded. "Do you have any ideas about what we could do when we run out of gas? Neither of us speak Russian— well— never mind. We don't have money either."

"What was the _never mind_?"

"A few words that would turn your little ears to ash."

"I guessed as much," said Madam dryly. "And trust me: if we need it, I'll get it."

They drove in silence for a few minutes. Then, they heard something… a motor. Another car was making it's way towards them at top speed. "You want to get us an escape route?" Zane quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Drive at them." Madam felt tired suddenly. She'd be Valerie soon. She couldn't keep up her killer front much longer. She was sitting now, and ever so still. There was nothing to _do_, and now her body was deciding it was time to stop everything. Including her hold on the pain in her hand. It was _killing_ her. She tried harder to get rid of it.

"Are you okay?" Zane had decided to do as she told him without comment. When he looked at her though, to see what she thought of his wordless acceptance, she'd almost looked like she was going to throw up.

"My hand hurts. I'm fine."

He shook his head, and gave his attention to the road. At the curve, they'd probably come upon this other car.

They did.

It was about fifty feet in front of them, hurtling along at well over eighty miles per hour. There must have been half the border guard riding inside it too. Men half hung out of windows, and inside it was a wriggling mass of bodies.

Zane started to swerve to the far left.

"No!" Valerie jerked the wheel from his hands, and pointed the car straight at them. "Let's get rid of them this way!"

Zane shut his eyes, and waited to die. Any minute now— there was a shrill squeal of wheels, accompanied by shouts and screams, and then a tremendous explosion. Still nothing hit the car.

He risked opening his eyes. In front of them, lay an empty road. Behind them, there was nothing left of the car that had veered of the road into a mine field. He shuddered slightly, thinking how close he'd come to not voicing his idea about going off road. If she hadn't warned him…

"How long will it take?" Valerie let go of the wheel as he took it again, and leaned back.

Her voice startled him. He turned his head hastily so that he could watch both her and the road. "How long will it take until what?"

"We get there."

"About two days driving. Twenty-eight hours. Why?"

Valerie shook her head in frustration, doing the math. "Two weeks of non-stop hiking!"

Zane stopped paying any attention to the road, whatsoever. "You want to _hike_ your way across Russia? I'm sorry, but that's not ridiculous, that's _impossible_! I refuse to attempt it!"

"I'm not asking you to." Valerie squinted at the rapidly approaching gate. It was wide open. Tsk, tsk. What poor security. When they got back, and everyone heard about this, not only would they feel foolish for being unable to get into The Fortress, but they'd laugh at the stupidity of the men running it. Reports had been exaggerated. Perhaps it was really difficult. Perhaps it really was impossible. But only if you didn't do the ridiculous.

"Does that mean you're going to drop me off, and start walking by yourself?"

"No." She motioned for him to slow, so that they wouldn't attract to many people's attention more than a Mafia vehicle normally did. "I'm just considering walking here and there to throw them off track. If they started getting too close, ditch the car, and start walking. They'll be stuck for days. It'll never occur to them, I swear!"

"I believe it." Zane shook his head despairingly, and looked back at the gates. Just another minute!

Valerie frowned suddenly. They had to do something to throw The Tyrant and everyone else off their tracks. Something absurd. Something simple. Deliciously ridiculous… "Whatever direction it's in, Zane, driving in the opposite one until we run out of gas. Alright?"

"If you say so." Zane forgot his annoyance though, as they drew up to the gate. There was no one there to stop them. Behind them, The Fortress was in smoking ruins, most of it's occupants killed, and the rest mentally unstable after so much emotional trauma. They'd done the impossible. They'd gotten out of The Fortress. Alive.

"Come on!" She smacked at him impatiently, elation in her eyes. "We are _not_ going to get caught at the last minute, and have gone through that for nothing! Now go!"

Zane grinned suddenly, and stepped down on the gas pedal, shooting through the gates. "I never asked— what's your name?"

Valerie stiffened slightly, and finally said: "You can call me Madam."

Zane shot her a questioning look. It was rather insulting really, to give a person you were working with your business name. Especially in such a close situation as this.

"I'm sorry— it's just— I'm trying to forget about who I was. In my own mind— my old self has pretty much died. I don't want to remember. There were things…" Valerie looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry. Please don't think I'm…"

"No. That's fine. I understand in a way." He leaned back in the seat, staring at an open road for as far as he could see. "Would you rather I shut my mouth, or can we talk?"

"I never said we couldn't!"

"You pretty much threw back whatever I said in my face. Not that my attempts at making conversation were great, but still— It seemed fairly obvious to me."

It was Valerie's turn to look uncomfortable. "Fine. I apologize. But I need a little bit of sleep, and my hand is killing me. Can I catch a few hours of sleep first? I'll drive in a bit, and you can sleep. It would be best if we were slightly rested for later on."

Zane nodded slightly, glanced at the compass on the dashboard, and spun the wheel to the right when they got to a small intersection in the road. Valerie fell asleep.

* * *

A light shaking woke her up a bit later. It was dark— almost black out, and raining. "Hey— we've run out of gas. There's a little town a ways on. What do you want to do?"

Valerie groaned, and blinked heavily. Her hand felt like fire, and the rest of her was numb. "Where are we?"

"About a fifth of the way to Moscow. The middle of nowhere, pretty much. We're about fifteen miles from the Pechora, I think. I might be wrong. We're near a river though." He caught her hand as she reached into her pocket for the lighter. "Don't. Just in case."

"Let's steal a car then, and drive it off into the river. The stolen car— they won't look in the river, they'll just keep following the road. We take a roundabout detour to it." Valerie opened the door, pulling back in surprise at the sudden chill of the outside air. Tentatively, she set her feet down, almost to have them swallowed by mud. "We're going to leave tracks in all this!"

Zane sighed, paused, then got out of his side and slammed the door. "Think of something."

"I have."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"I hadn't before." Valerie slammed her door, and waited for him to join her. "We want them to follow us obviously to the stolen car. Then, there won't be more footprints. We go off the bridge in the car, and swim against the river for a while— or wade. They'd expect us to go downstream if we made it alive. If we're lucky, they won't even see that the car went off the bridge. After a while, we get out, and start walking."

Zane groaned. "You've _got_ to be kidding!"

"No. Come on. Keep your gun out. You see anyone who sees us, shoot them. I don't care who it is."

"How about the little children?" he asked sarcastically.

"Them too."

Zane stopped walking, staring at her back.

With a sigh of impatience, Valerie turned around and looked at him. "Look— little kids— they blab like nothing else on the planet. Some little kid sees us, and the whole country'll know by morning!"

"But—"

"Think about it this way, Zane. Somebody's got to make sacrifices. It can be you and me, sacrificing our lives which we've worked so hard to keep— or it can be some little brat who doesn't matter yet." Valerie turned back around angrily. "Now come on!"

"You're not serious!" Zane hurried to catch up with her, and grabbed her arm. "You're not serious, Madam!"

"I _am_! I'm a hit woman, Zane, or have you forgotten that? It's my job to kill people!"

"Children?"

For an instant, Valerie hesitated, remembering tiny little eyes staring up at her in wonder, and little fingers closing around hers trustingly. Even children? "Yes," she said finally.

"Who taught you that?"

"Taught me what?"

"To think like that?" Zane snapped.

Valerie rounded on him, half raising a fist. "My father did! Now shut your mouth, or I'll do what I should have done two days ago and kill you!"

* * *

**No doubt you have now lost all sympathy with Valerie. Next chapter— or soon, anyway, I will explain in depth. **

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	9. Happy Birthday

**This chapter is sad. I'm sorry if you cry, and that's all I have to say, except that it's a flashback, which seems fairly obvious from the: _three years before…_ but that some people can't see.**

**Since it's Christmas Day, I feel kind of bad posting something this horrible. I don't know if I'll have another chance to post anytime soon, in the next few weeks, so I'm posting now. Please tell me how you feel about this chapter. If it's disturbing to anyone, I apologize sincerely, but I think it's necessary, and I most definitely did _not_ write it because I delight in blood and gore. I'm afraid these things don't bother me as much as theybother others, because I've gotten used to it. Please tell me if it was too much.**

**Anyway, I'm going to have to start writing faster. I'm currently past page one hundred, and as I hoped, about half way through the book. Love you. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

_Three years before…_

Valerie smiled at her little brother. She felt ridiculously proud of him! Such a smart little baby. "Come on, baby," she said coaxingly. "Come on. Walk for Valerie! It's my birthday!" She held on tightly to his chubby little hands so he wouldn't fall, and watched his little feet paw unsteadily at the ground. "Come on, baby! Walk! Take _one_ step!"

He tightened his grip on her fingers, and pulled himself forward, smiling at her beguilingly, and trying to tell her something without words.

Valerie laughed, and swung him up into the air, blowing kisses to him. Someday, she would have a baby just like him! He was a perfect baby— he never cried.

"Valerie!" Her father knocked. "Come on! It's dark now!"

"Coming." She set him back down in his crib, whispering for him to be quiet. She'd been told not to play with him,because it was past his bedtime "Be asleep!" His little eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he held his breath, tiny body quivering with excitement over the naughtiness of the whole thing. He was such a smart little baby.

She stepped brisklyout of the room and followed him down the hall. "What are we going to do tonight?"

"Climb. We're going to work onvertical surfaces. They aren't really straight up, you know. There's almost always some way around that. I've never faced a wall I couldn't climb. You've got to be like a spider almost; cling to the surface." Like always, he paused at the door, peering out before opening it, gun drawn.

Like always, nothing happened.

Like always, Valerie asked: "Do you _really_ have to do that? What if someone saw you?"

"Then I'd shoot them. You can't risk it. Besides, someone I knowsaw someone who doesn't like me so well in town a few days ago. It could be a coincidence, maybe not even the same person, but—" He froze at arustling in the bushes, pointing the gun straight at them.

With a frightened sob, one of the familiar street roamers rolled out of the bushes. He was only about five or so, and to thin even for the usual street roamers. "Don't shoot me! I don't have any pennies!"

Valerie gritted her teeth, and waited for the shot. Her father was deadly strict with his rules. Besides, the kid would probably be happier dead than alive. He was probably hungry, probablysick, would probably die early, and probably had no life.

For a moment, her father hesitated. Then he lowered the gun. "Alright. Go on. Just stay out of here and keep quiet."

Glad to be let off so easy for a crime he wasn't certain of, he scurried away on all fours and disappeared.

"Why didn't you shoot him?"

Her fathershook his head. "He's just a little kid, Valerie. Like your brother. I can't shoot him. He didn't do anything wrong, he just showed up here at the wrong timeof night. Besides, what are the odds that he'll tell anyone— much less the person. Who wants to know. I'm not even sure iftheman'sin America, let alone Chicago. What's the harm in letting him go?"

Valerie squirmed, and shrugged, unwilling to say anything. She supposed he was right.

They were both wrong.

* * *

Valerie frowned as they came around the corner. "The kitchen light's not on. Do you think something's the matter?" 

Her father was already pressing her back. "Hell, yes, I think something's the matter! It's been on every single night for the past nine years! Do think she'd forget?"

Valerie crouched down behind him in the shadows, suddenly frightened. She wanted to be a little girl again, so she could crawl over to him, and curl up and let him hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. But she knew she couldn't, and it'd probably be a lie anyway. Everything was already not okay if the light wasn't on.

For a moment, he was silent while he thought. Then he stood. "Listen to me, Valerie. I want you to hide in the manhole here. Don't come out for _any_ reason until I come get you. Either that, or if I don't come get you, two days have passed. I'm going to go in."

"But what if—"

He turned around, meeting her eyes as he stopped to pull back the cover for her. "Get in! You have a watch. If I win, I'll come get you in a little bit. If not, I won't."

Valerie swallowed and slipped down inside, reaching for a flashlight they kept stored down there. They'd never had to use it before, but her father kept it anyways— just in case something ever happened. Something like this. Something bad.

"No matter what you hear, and no matter how bad you want out— if I don't come get you, you promise to stay down here for two days!"

Valerie said nothing.

"You promise me that!"

"I promise," she whispered in a trembling voice. She'd never been so scared before! Every other enemy, her father had beaten so easily. Now, he was talking like he would probably lose.

"Good. If you have to wait two days, and we're dead or gone, you can't stay here. Don't even go into the house, if you can help it. Stay out and away. Use what I taught you to keep alive, alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"I love you." He'd never said that before. Valerie set her head against the concrete wall that the ladder she was standing on was embedded in as he returned the cover to it's proper position. She'd known he loved her— but he'd never said it before. It wasn't his way.

* * *

An hour passed. Two hours. Her fear increased. He shouldn't have been gone this long! What had happened? Still nothing. Around four in the morning, she heard soft voices above her. 

"Looks like he came back her with someone. I wonder who it was."

A grunt. "That kid said he'd been with a girl. Said she looked like him. You think he had a daughter?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. She's no worry though. Who'd teach a daughter? Maybe she ran off. It doesn't matter though. We killed everyone worth killing. We ought to go."

"Yeah. Sooner or later the cops are gonna come calling. I wondered what they did?"

"Them? Who knows? Some secret foreign thing. The guy who hired us looked demonic, he said. All creepy, like those ninja things they have in movies every now and then. Maybe the target was involved in some secret government affairs."

"Does it really matter?" There was a crunch as someone stepped on broken glass. "Come on. Let's go."

"Right." Footsteps died away as they left, and then it was silent. Ever so silent. Silent except for the soft plopping of water below her, and cricket sounds above.

Valerie couldn't cry. She just felt numb all over. Dead? They were dead? She allowed herself one muffled sob of anger with her father. "You fool! You should have shot him!"

That was all. Then, she climbed farther down, and sat on the concrete ledge, staring into the darkness of the water that swirled a few feet below her. Dead. They were all dead. What was she supposed to do now?

_Wait two days. Use what I taught you to keep alive._

For two days she would sit down here. Then what? They hadn't done too much with stealth yet,but shecouldsteal food for a while. All she'd learned, really, was how to fight. Could she get a job training others, perhaps?

Valerie turned off the flashlight, and crossed her legs, sinking into her meditation position, and finding her _chi_. It would probably be best to choose a criminal occupation. Her father had done a few jobs for a man named Rivers. She could probably find his office.

Two nights later, she climbed out of the hole, and slipped towards her house. It was dark, and very still. Everything was still. The air felt musty, and damp. She felt a sprinkle on her foot, and hurried on, slipping through the shadows around the house until she was sure that it was empty, and that all her enemies were gone with their traps.

Slowly, she opened the back door. A jolt of fear ran over her. She wasn't sure why she was afraid. She only was.

The kitchen was empty. Valerie opened a cabinet, and took out a loaf of bread. She sawed mechanically at it with the bread knife on the counter until a hunk fell off, and then sat down at the table and ate it with a glass of milk she poured herself.

It felt like she'd been away on vacation, and only just come back. It seemed just as she'd left it. But it wasn't, she knew. Valerie finished her food, and then moved on.

In the hallway, she almost tripped over her father's body. He was pock-marked with bullets. His shirt had been almost shredded, there were so many, and the carpet and walls were stained an ugly brownish-red. Everything smelled funny. Not right.

Valerie swallowed, and darted past, lifting her foot hurriedly, so as not to step on his hand.

The stairs too, were stained with blood, but there was no body. At least someone had fought back. Valerie smiled grimly, and hoped the men had left carrying the bodies of several of their friends.

She threw up though, when she saw her mother. So much blood— and other things. The body was almost mangled beyond recognition. It was just the scraps of her robe that clung to the pieces that identified her. Why couldn't it have been one bullet? Just one?

Valerie turned around and leaned over the banister for a long time, not willing to look at the bits of her mother scattering the hall. She wanted to cry. She just wanted to cry, and cry, and cry until someone came and told her it would be alright, and that the dead people weren't really her family. That her family was waiting for her elsewhere.

Finally, she straightened, and walked down the hall, eyes on the doorway at the end so that she didn't have to look at what she was walking through. If only her brother were alive. Then she could keep on.

His bedroom was dark.

Step by step, she forced herself to his bed. Her scream was so loud it almost startled her. She half expected the dead bodies to call out, asking her what was wrong.

The tiny body of her brother was impaled by a long knife that pinned him to the bed. Stiff little fingers twisted by the pain were frozen in a groping plea for someone to help him and explain what had happened. To explain what he'd done to deserve everything.

Asking why no one came to help him. His tiny body was contorted around the knife in a spasm of pain that he had died in. All alone and frightened. All alone. Without her. Without his father. Without his mother. Without _her_! Asking why she didn't come. Asking why no one picked him up and held him and told him everything was going to be alright. Asking why no one answered his little cries for help. Asking why…

Valerie clenched her teeth, and buried her face in her hands, struggling desperately not to cry. "I'm sorry, baby! I didn't know! I didn't mean to! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"

If only… if only they'd come in early from the practice round, and been there to stop the men who'd come and done this thing. If only they hadn't gone in the first place! If only they'd not been at home, but gone somewhere as a family! If only her father had shot that child when they first saw him! If only one small thing had been changed…

"Happy birthday," she whispered bitterly.

* * *

**I think you understand now— about the even children bit. Don't worry though. Valerie will change.**

**P.S. I'm debating whether or not to drop the romance. I need your opinion. There was going to be some later, but is this really the story for that? Would it really add to the story or not?**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	10. The River

**I like the fight they have in this chapter. It's a good one. I also skip around in this chapter. Not in time, but in people. This bothers some people. If it bothers you, I won't do it very often in this story, and you can deal with it, I'm sure**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

Zane looked at her coolly for an instant. "You're soft, I take it? But you do like to murder children. I find that odd."

Her gun was out in an instant, and against his chest, safety off. "You say one more word, Zane, and you will die, right now!" Valerie felt everything surge inside her. Everything she'd locked up since three years ago one night. Quickly, she forced it back down.

He just looked at her. Just looked. That was all.

"You don't understand," whispered Valerie. "You don't understand! You _fool_! You should have shot him when you had the chance…" She stood there staring into space, barely noticing as Zane moved to the side and took the gun from her. "You fool."

Slowly, Zane reached out, and touched her shoulder. "We'd better not stop. Come on, Madam."

Valerie started slightly, meeting his eyes for an instant, and then looking down. She'd let down her guard and almost gone to pieces in front of this man. What was happening to her?

"Come on."

Valerie turned and trudged after him through the mud, lost in that night from the past.

On, and on they went. Valerie hardly noticed. Lift one foot. Set it down. Lift the other foot. Set it down. Over and over again. _If only_… She would not be a fool! Her father had let down his guard once! He had trusted someone once! And once had been enough…

Valerie Ko would never make that mistake.

"Madam?"

She didn't answer.

"Madam!"

Her head shot up, and she half reached for her gun. "What's the matter? What—"

"Nothing. Are you alright?" Zane stopped and leaned against a tree, brushing back his hair from his eyes, and peering at her through the drizzle of rain. "We're just about to the town."

"Oh." Valerie nodded, ignoring his question, and stepped around in front of him to lead the way. "There will probably be— at best, one or two cars. There might not be any at all. If not, we'll need to let a boat loose to go down river, and swim up. They'll think we jumped when we saw them coming. They wouldn't dream that we swam upstream and started walking."

Zane muttered something under his breath and jogged after her until he caught up. "I really think this is ridiculous, Madam. All they need to do is let a few dogs loose, and—"

"That far up river? Besides, why would we walk? Why not ride the boat until we got to a town with a car, and then steal one? No one would be stupid enough to walk across Russia, Zane!"

"Then why are we?" Zane shook his head impatiently, and tried in vain to twist his hair out of the way. It insisted in hanging down in his eyes.

Valerie stopped, and reached up, smoothing his hair to the side with her good hand. "Because if no one would do it, then we wouldn't, and that'll be the only thing they don't consider. It's ridiculous!"

Zane waited an instant for his hair to fall back into his eyes. It didn't. Feeling stupid for some reason, he began to follow her again.

A few minutes later, they were at the edge of the trees. Valerie took one look at the village, and shook her head. There were about eight houses. She doubted anyone in the region had a car. "We're going to have to steal a boat. Let's go around."

Muttering at how ridiculous the whole thing was, Zane followed her around the village to the river.

"It's moving too fast." He motioned down to the murky water, that had risen because of the rain. The small boats strained against the ropes holding them to shore like impatient puppies on a leash.

"Are you afraid?"

Knowing it was the oldest trick there was, and feeling angry that he was falling for it anyway, he shook his head. "No. But I'm not stupid, Madam. How're we going to swim up river?"

"Not swim. Wade." She turned and looked around carefully before stepping onto a small boat. "Come on. Make it look like we were on it, idiot!"

Zane watched her tracking mud back and forth across it for a few minutes, and then got in with her, and tangled a few ropes, and made a general mess of the boat.

"Good." She took some spare rope from a small locker, along with some fishing material, wrapped the rope around her waist, and stuck the tackle in a jacket pocket for later. "Come on now. Get out of the boat into the water. Not too far out though."

Zane swung himself overboard, and nearly went under the flow was so strong. "Are you sure we can—"

Valerie jumped over, drenching him in spray. "I'm sure." After a moment of sawing at the rope with her knife, the rope snapped the rest of the way, and was instantly swept along by the current.

She edged as close as she dared to the bank, and began to slog her way through the water, Zane close behind her. Too close in fact. Every time he set his foot down, the back of her pants got wetter. She decided not to say anything however. It was no use wasting energy, since he probably couldn't help it, and sooner or later, the current was going to knock her over, and she was going to get soaked.

It took them almost an hour to get out of sight of the little village. It was ridiculously slow going— which she supposed was in there favor in one way. She'd already been knocked off her feet four times, and Zane had fallen over so many times she'd stopped counting. It took her a while to realize why, however. He'd been in The Fortress a few days. Naturally that had taken it's toll on him. He'd lost a lot of blood, not gotten much sleep, and hadn't been fed adequately. Her? She only had a crushed hand.

Three more hours passed. The blackness of night turned to a dark grey of day, and it continued to rain, and be cold, and windy. Zane fell once again, and this time Valerie decided they should stop. She crawled up the bank, and lay there a minute before helping Zane to his feet and moving towards the thick pines a few feet away. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

Zane followed her, eyes half shut through the trees until they came to a larger tree down among the rocks. Valerie clamored down them to a fairly dry little area, just big enough for both of them. "Come on! Get down here, and you can go to sleep."

Zane slid down after her obediently, tugged off the scraps of his shirt still clinging to his body, stretched out, and went to sleep.

* * *

Rivers frowned at the computer screen. His contact in Russia said that the Mafia had suddenly gone crazy. Mafia members in town left. Hordes of them would suddenly appear at odd hours of the day and night, on their way through to somewhere else. Rumor had it that something terrible had happened. Something at The Fortress.

Anyway, it was clear that The Tyrant had called upon almost every Mafia member in Russia. They were organizing themselves into patrols of sorts, and people had been told to look for two foreigners that were badly injured. A reward if you turned them in, and death if you didn't.

So Valerie and her target had gotten out. He wondered why she hadn't killed him yet. Maybe she hadn't had the chance.

His phone rang. Slowly, he picked it up. "Yes? How may I help you?"

"Rivers. It seems this girl was even more than I took her to be. My apologizes for underestimating both yourself and her."

"What?" asked Rivers blankly.

"I have pictures. Very interesting pictures. Perhaps you'd like some for your trophy case?"

Ah. The Russian who had hired her. "Pictures of what?"

"Pictures of what's left of The Fortress. It looks like she dropped a few bombs on it. Anyway, I heard she got Zane and herself out, and took off, and they can't find them."

Rivers twiddled his fingers nervously. "You don't think they're actually going after— after the diamond, do you? They wouldn't be that stupid! They must be waiting until the border patrol lessens, and then slip through, and fly home from somewhere else."

"No doubt. No doubt. If she brings back Zane alive though, there will be a generous tip. Zane's a good man, and I'll appreciate having him back, as will his family."

"Of course— Well, I just hope that she's still alive, and will be able to keep working. If she got injured and won't be able to do much else the rest of her life, there'll be a fee. I provide all my members with insurance for life, if anything happens to them on a job, and she's awfully young."

"I understand. Just how young is she?"

"Eighteen."

"Well, I'd hate to ruin things for her. She could probably make quite a bit touring though."

"Right. If you could send me those pictures—"

"They'll be there in a few days. Goodbye." He hung up with a click.

Rivers grinned. He was the top in the world! Soon, he'd be handling every major criminal. He ought to up his benefits. Perhaps he should employ a few jail breakers for his extended staff. Just in case things got out of control, and someone got in trouble.

* * *

Zane woke up hours later, feeling more exhausted than before, if possible, and cold. And wet. And deadish. Valerie was sitting a few feet away, still wide awake on watch. Feeling ashamed of himself sleeping so long and making her wait, he sat up. "Madam?"

She started, turned quickly, dropping her bad hand, that she'd been cradling. It bounced off her knee, and hit the ground, drawing a startled cry of pain from her.

"Sorry." He winced, and reached out, picking her hand up carefully to examine it. "This is bad. I doubt a hospital could fix it. Not even the best in the world."

Valerie glared at him in exasperation, and pulled away. "I don't _care_ so much about _fixing_ it, as I care about making it stop _hurting_! Now if you've gotten enough sleep already, I would like to get a few hours as well. It's almost night, and then we'll have to start moving again."

Zane squirmed at the accusation in her voice, and moved aside so she could lie down. "Sorry."

Valerie curled up in a little ball, her hand sticking out crookedly where she wouldn't bump it. "If you see anyone who sees you, shoot them. If you hear anything at all, wake me up. Try to be quiet and still."

"Right. How long until you want to be waken up?"

"About an hour. We can't waste anymore time than that."

Again, Zane squirmed, but he nodded, and checked his watch as he drew his gun.

Valerie was asleep in an instant, exhausted by going so many nights without sleep. When they got home, she was going to sleep for several days, and then lie in bed for a few more.

Zane sat still, listening to the dull patter of rain against the pine needles scattered across the ground, and the soft swish of the wind through the trees all around. It was still, and grey, and very alone in a not lonely way.

Then he heard a motor. It was coming from the south, and sounded like a low flying copter. He turned to wake Valerie up, but she was already sitting up, hand on her gun.

"Is it a copter?"

"Yes. It might be looking for us, but it's more likely flying north, to where they think we are."

"Is that good or bad?"

"It's good if they keep going north and don't see us. It's bad if they see us, or are looking for us here. If they're looking for us here, it means they haven't found the boat like we wanted them to."

"I'd think—"

Valerie nodded. "I know. They must have found it. Why are we worrying? Wait until it's passed, and then let's move on."

Zane nodded, and leaned back against the rock.

Silence.

"Madam?"

"What?"

"I just noticed something."

"What's that?"

"It hasn't gone away. I think it's hovering."

* * *

**It's this lovely and suspenseful and— And later on, I think I might add, the Mafia will not be their only enemies. Remember the end of chapter two? There are people who want Valerie dead.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**

P.S. I noticed more people are visiting my story than reviewing. I'm assuming some of them aren't fanfiction users. If you didn't know it, and want to review, I do accept anoymous reviews. 


	11. A Kill

**I've decided you'll see the other bad guys in about four or five chapters. It'll make things interesting. I always knew how it was going to end. The end has been the same on every single draft— all five! I knew what the story was about, and that was all. I still don't know what will happen between here and the end, except that it promises to be fun and interesting. Until… You'll see.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

Valerie froze, eyes flickering towards the direction of the hum. It seemed to be just on the other side of the trees— waiting for something. Slowly… slowly… she reached out and pulled Zane towards her. "Come on! Get down! Minimize the target!"

Obediently he crept back under the overhang, holding his breath. The motor stopped abruptly. Everything was silent again, except for the rain, slowly dripping off the trees onto the ground below.

She stiffened suddenly. "Move."

Zane turned his head, looking at her questioningly. Valerie pushed him down flat, and slid over him to the front. "Keep quiet and don't move, whatever happens."

He watched in fascination as she crept over the ground on her hands and toes, so close to the rock that she was almost scraping it. She almost looked like a crab. What had she heard? He waited, trying to keep his breathing as still as the rest of him.

Valerie straightened slightly as she reached the shadow of a crevice opposite of him, and melted back into the rock.

There was a slight thud, as heavy boots met the muddy rock. Zane drew back just barely, farther into the rock. Another thud. A few feet away, he saw boots, and then a hand, as someone bent to examine the dirt. He groaned inwardly. There must be prints all over.

Another thud, and another. Four more boots joined the pair already there. Someone muttered something softly in Russian.

Behind them, Zane saw two bare feet appear, gingerly kissing the earth with each step. Why didn't they see her? What was she playing at? There were three armed men! It was agonizing, waiting. Out of spitefulness, she stopped, and waited for them to turn.

After a few more minutes of talking, the men turned. Before they could let out any exclamation of surprise, let alone draw a weapon, there were three sharp cracks, followed the by dull sounds of bodies hitting the ground. "You can come out now, Zane."

Zane rolled out from under the rock, staring at the Russians. What had made the cracking sound? She hadn't used a gun, because the cracks hadn't been bullet cracks. How had she killed them like that?

In answer to his unspoken question, Valerie held out the gun. She'd broken the back of their heads open with the muzzle. It was quieter, and worked just as well. "We can take their copter out of here. They must have had a heat detector, or something."

"Do you think there are any more?"

"One at most. This was probably all though." She paused an instant, listening intently, and satisfied that there was no one else around, she swung herself up, motioning for him to follow.

Zane hauled himself up, and trotted after her, suddenly feeling the stiffness in his neck and shoulders. The sight of those three men lying there had been unnerving. She'd killed them so quickly— so easily. They hadn't even been able to make noise before dying. And the strength it must have taken to push the gun through bone!

Suddenly, she stopped. He fought hard to keep from running into her, and utterly failed. To his surprise, however, she didn't fall over, but caught him, and pushed him upright with her elbow, releasing a knife as she did so.

From up ahead, there was a choking sound, and a crackling of branches as something fell. "I do believe that was the last one. Try to watch where you're going, Zane."

She jogged through the trees and leaned over a body sprawled across a dead tree limb. The knife made a squelching noise as she plucked it from his chest, but she ignored it, and wiped it off in the dirt before wiping it off on her sleeve and returning it to it's sheath.

"Alright, let's go."

Zane stared down at him. "What do you think he was doing out here— all by himself?"

"Taking a restroom break," said Valerie shortly. "Now stop standing around, and hurry up and come on! The Tyrant is smarter than I thought, or just plain desperate and lucky!"

"I vote the latter."

"It's not best to take stupid chances. Come on. Let's get out of here before they come to look for them." Valerie hurried towards the copter, which was standing in an open space about fifty yards away.

The door was wide open, practically inviting them in. Valerie motioned for him to climb into the pilot's seat, and climbed in after him, shutting the door quickly. "Can you fly us to the diamond?"

"Of course. But we'll probably run out of fuel before then. Are you sure you want to risk it?"

"No, but we'll have to take that chance. If we get low, we can always land at some Mafia base and refuel."

Zane stared at her.

Valerie laughed, and buckled herself in. "I wasn't serious, Zane. I'll think of something. Now go on."

After a moment more of eyeing her distrustfully, Zane turned the key in the ignition. "Do you think we'll have trouble with any cities, or intersecting any airlines?"

"Where are we going?"

Slowly, they lifted into the air. Zane looked around for any signs of trouble, and finally said: "The Verkhoyansk Mountains. Up near the source of the Indigirka."

Valerie shut her eyes, picturing the map of Russia she had memorized. "And we're near the Pechora?"

"I think so."

She glared at him in annoyance. "Thinking so doesn't help me any. It could mean our lives, you know."

"Sorry. I can't do better than that. There's no GPS in this thing." Zane glanced at a compass on the dash, and turned the helicopter towards the east. "I'd be surprised if it isn't though."

"Fine. You probably want to fly slightly north for a while, and when you come to the Artic, fly east. That would be our best chance at missing everyone around here. Don't fly straight north though, or we'll run into everyone looking for us downriver."

Zane nodded, and pulled the controls to the left until they were flying northeast.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Valerie lay in her seat, watching things in exhaustion through half-closed eyes. Finally though, Zane broke the silence. "You could have killed me, couldn't you have? You didn't even need to choke me to do it."

Valerie said nothing to defend herself.

"Why didn't you?"

"You're only crime was stupidity Zane. There was no need to kill you unless there was no possible way out of The Fortress." Valerie shut her eyes and settled back.

"You killed the four Russians back there with ease. You could have killed me like that. Why'd you kill them and not me?"

"I bought us a little more time. And it's four less that we have to fight later on. There was a reason to kill them."

Zane shook his head. "I don't believe you would kill a child."

"I would."

"I don't believe it."

"I would!" Valerie's fingers curled into a fist, but she kept her eyes closed.

"Why?"

Valerie's previously cool face fought with anger. "Unless you'd like to feel an awful lot of pain, I suggest you keep quiet, Zane!"

"Fine. Go ahead and kill me now. I know where the diamond is, and you don't, and you know it!"

"The Verkhoyansk Mountains. Up near the source of the Indigirka," muttered Valerie. But she knew that she did need him, and she couldn't kill him. Not yet.

Zane snorted, and shook his head in annoyance. "You couldn't kill a child, Madam."

With a cry of anger, that Valerie knew was childish, but gave vent to anyway, she spun her good hand, and brought it down across his shoulder in a slicing jab. "I would!"

Zane made a muffled noise from inside his throat, and dropped his right hand from the controls with a shudder of pain. That was all. He continued to steer with his left hand, but he said nothing more, and stared straight ahead, teeth tightly clenched.

Knowing she'd won, and feeling miserable anyway, Valerie leaned back, and drew up her knees under her chin, letting her eyes wander over the panel in front of her.

A blinking light in a place there normally wasn't one drew her attention. Out of curiosity, she leaned forward to look at it. What she saw took her a moment to recognize. It had been a while since she'd seen one. It was a tracker. But that wasn't what bothered her most. It would probably be impossible for anyone to tell they were doing something they weren't supposed to yet, unless the copter was supposed to be going in the opposite direction.

No. What worried her was the little transmitter underneath that was sending every sound they made to someone else who was probably delighted to hear them. And not for good reasons either.

Valerie wrenched her knife out of it's sheath, and sliced through the wire attaching it to the panel. It hit the floor with a tinkling sound, and rolled under her chair. "They know where we are now! They know where the diamond is! Zane? Put on speed! Forget the detour! Head straight for it!"

"What was—"

"A transmitter! Come on!" she said urgently. "They've probably got men already there!"

Zane turned the copter straight towards the Verkhoyansk Mountains. "They won't get it. It's impossible to get it unless you know where it's at. You could look for a thousand years."

"Why? Where is it?"

"I'm not telling _you_! You'll kill me as soon as you don't need me! What do you expect?"

Valerie winced slightly, feeling unprofessional, but knowing she owed him an apology. She needn't have struck him so hard. It must have already hurt there plenty. "I'm not going to kill you, Zane. Ok? I lost my temper."

"Is that an apology?"

Valerie glared at him and then turned her head sharply to look out her window at the passing land.

"Later. I'll tell you later." Which meant she wasn't forgiven, and he still didn't trust her. And he really had most every reason not to. After all, he was her target. Perhaps he wondered if he were just there to make things easier for her. If he were dispensable. Perhaps he thought that she really did know where the diamond was.

Valerie sighed. "How much longer can we keep going?"

"Around three more hours. There wasn't as much gas in this thing when we got on it as I hoped there would be. I guess they'd been flying for quite a while. What are we going to do when we land?"

"Get some sleep."

Zane turned his head to stare at her. "Are you kidding? I thought we were going to get to the diamond as fast as we can! And if we sleep they'll find us for sure!"

"No. We parachute out before this runs out of gas. This keeps flying until it's done. We hole up in the ground, and wait until they give up looking for us. Then we steal something else of theirs, and get out of here as fast as we can. But we need sleep, or we might as well die right now. My hand's killing me, and you're back must be killing you."

"It is," said Zane shortly, with just the barest hint of accusation in his voice.

Valerie winced again. "Okay, look— I lost my temper! I'm having a really bad day, in case you haven't noticed! My hand feels like it's going to fall off!"

There was an instant of silence, in which Zane looked painfully embarrassed about it, and felt like perhaps he should have been nicer to her.

Finally, Valerie picked up some tape, and handed it to him. "Here. Stick the controls with this, and then help me pack up all the thing we want to take with us. We'll jump as soon as we're done with that."

"Won't someone see us though?"

Glaring at him, Valerie made a sweeping gesture at everything visible from the windows. "See anyone to see us?"

Zane glanced down. "No. But… I think I hear someone."

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**Dear me. More and more people. The Tyrant just can't leave them alone, can he? At this rate, romance will never candle, hmm?**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)****  
**


	12. Sink and Swim

**I had a lot of fun with the kind-of-accidentally thing in this chapter. You'll see once you read it. Anyway, I saw a shooting star a few minutes ago (whenever this is published, I'm writing this at night) I suppose that's good luck— at least it seems like it would be. Ah well. It was pretty. You know? I've seen one every year on my birthday the past three years. Perhaps I'm a special person. :) And none of you take that out of context!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

Valerie groaned, and listened. Sure enough. For a while, she hadn't noticed it. Just thought the copter's engine was getting louder for some reason. But no. There was another copter behind them. 

"You have an idea, I assume."

She glared at him, and began stuffing things into a spare bag she'd picked up. "I'm working on it. Give me a moment. I'm having a little trouble with things."

"Anything you want me to do for you?"

"Yeah! Shut up!"

Zane finished sticking the controls in silence, and then moved to the back of the copter where he could raid the various supply stocks. "Hey. Here's some medical supplies. You want anything?"

Valerie held open another bag. "All of it. And if there's any kind of pain killer, I want enough to make me high."

For a moment, Zane stared down at the still, bloody hand draped across her lap. He kept forgetting about it for some reason. How could she stand the pain that must be causing her? He dumped case after case into the bag, searching for anything that looked like a painkiller. There was several cases of needles, but of course they were labeled in Russian, and he didn't want to give her some lethal injection.

"Fine." Valerie struggled to her feet, and pulled her injured arm across her chest. "Take the bandages and fix this to me as tightly as you can. It won't hurt as much, and it'll be out of the way."

Zane picked up a roll of bandages obediently. "What about the other copter?"

"They're just following us. They'll let us live until we have the diamond. Then, they'll kill us and take it. We can worry about them later. Worry about us now."

After a minute more, while Zane fumbled with the roll, he began to bandage her arm to her. When he got to her hand though, he stopped. "Am I hurting you?"

Valerie groaned. "What do you _think_? It's painful just listening to you think out loud!" She smiled tiredly. "Yes, but it can't be helped. Go on, and keep it tight, alright?"

Gingerly, he continued, looking rather ill when a chunk of skin that had been dangling from her hand fell off. Finally though, he was done. Valerie spun quickly a few times to get a feel for her balance, and then picked up a gun, and moved around to the front.

After wrapping her good arm through the seat belt loop, she overrode the lock, and opened the door. Out of pure reflex, Zane's arm shot out to catch hold of her. "I'm fine, Zane. I just need to get a better look at the idiots. I won't fall out. I promise."

Slowly, Zane let go of her, and she swung her body upright, and half leaned out of the copter.

In the other copter, the men were babbling into the radio, and one looked as if he was going to break a window any moment and start shooting at her. Valerie waved at them, kind-of-accidentally sticking up one particular finger at them as she did so.

Zane had a fit of coughing from behind her, and finally leaned out, and pulled her back in. "If that seat belt breaks, you are dead. You're making them mad, and they can't fight. That's not a good thing to do. They might get all worked up."

Valerie grinned at him, and put her foot in the way to keep him from shutting the door. "Wait." She swept her arm up, aimed the gun briefly, and then fired at the other copter.

There was a slight pinging noise, and nothing happened.

"You missed!"

Smack. Valerie slapped him across the face. "I did nothing of the sort! In a few minutes, their tail spinner-thing— whatever it's called— will fall off. Then watch them go much of anywhere except up and down."

Zane turned and look up ahead. "But we'll be over a big lake in a few minutes!"

Valerie grinned wickedly. "I know that. Won't it be funny to watch their faces?" She waved to them again, kind-of-accidentally sticking up one particular finger at them as she did so, and then shut the door. "They all think I missed. Watch them laugh when their stupid little tail falls off."

With a plop, Zane seated himself, fighting a bout of odd sounding noises halfway between grunts and snorts.

They flew out over the lake. The other copter drew up beside them with a burst of speed, and then suddenly fell back— well— kind of drifted to a sudden halt. Valerie wasted a minute to spin the copter back around and wave at them again, kind-of-accidentally sticking up one particular finger at them as she did so. Just for the fun of it. It wasn't many people who could boast about how they had flicked off members of the Mafia. Not many people got away with it. The Mafia prided themselves on it. Unfortunately, they hadn't taken Valerie into consideration on that one.

Then, they were flying north east again— but more east than north. Both of them felt much better than they had been earlier too. Perhaps it was the weather, and perhaps it wasn't. At any rate, Zane almost suggested they go find The Tyrant, purely for the sake of waving at him, and kind-of-accidentally sticking up one particular finger at him as they did so. But another time. Right now, they had to get the diamond.

"Are we coming to a big city?" Valerie leaned forwards suddenly, and squinted at the land up ahead.

Zane quickly turned his attention in the direction of her gaze. "Uh… I'm not quite sure. It's highly possible though. It might be— I can't remember. Just about every cross-Russia flight comes in here. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to get too close, because they'll want us to identify ourselves, and we can't do that, or speak Russian and make something up."

"I know that, Zane. Land the copter."

"_What_?" Zane almost started to bring the helicopter higher.

Shaking her head at the stupidity of some people, and wondering where she'd get the patience to deal with him much longer, Valerie pushed down the lever.

Zane let out a yell, and fought with her for the controls. "We're going to land in a lake, you idiot!"

"Hopefully it's deep enough to submerge us," muttered Valerie. "Open the doors so we can jump out when we get close enough. Then, we're rid of the evidence. We swim to shore, get some sleep, and go into the city when we have a plan. It should help quite a bit."

"This is ridiculous!" groaned Zane, but he began to guide the copter down.

"Why are you heading towards the shore? You have to come down in the middle, or it won't be deep enough!"

Carefully, Zane set the copter down on a flat sandy area along the shore. "I know. You take all the supplies and get out. I'll dump this thing, and swim out. It wouldn't do to break anything or get all of that stuff wet."

Or not so stupid, thought Valerie. "Alright." She swung herself out, throwing the packs Zane handed her over her shoulder one by one. "Try not to hurt yourself more."

Zane rolled his eyes at her, nodded, and lifted into the air again. Valerie hurried off into the trees to find a suitable place for hiding from everyone that was looking for them. It would probably be quite a while before The Tyrant wanted to admit to defeat. He'd never been defeated before, and he wasn't too happy about a child destroying his record.

Valerie pushed through the trees a way, until she came to a suitable clump of trees and bushes that had enough room in the middle to spread out the packs and curl up in for a few hours of sleep. Quickly, she sorted the packs according to content, setting aside some food with relief. She hadn't eaten for… a while. Quite a while it seemed. Poor Zane probably hadn't eaten for over a week. When he came back, they'd eat, and then sleep. And she'd try to come up with some kind of plan for what to do next.

She winced as she heard Zane coming up behind her. He _really_ needed to work on his stealth! It sounded like he was limping though. His walking was uneven. "What'd you do?"

Zane pushed his way through the bushes. "I didn't swim fast enough. A blade clipped my ankle."

"Sit." She pointed to a spot next to her, and reached for the medical bag.

With a groan, Zane lowered himself to the ground, and leaned back with his foot out. He was shivering slightly— the lake water had been freezing, and it was windy.

Valerie took a jacket she had found, and tossed it over him. "This is lovely. If you keep hurting yourself, I'm going to _have_ to kill you! Do you know how difficult you're making this? Now I have to plan around your injuries as well as mine." She picked up his injured foot, and set it in her lap, pulling off his shoe without the slightest care.

"Ow!"

Valerie shook her head in annoyance, and leaned over, examining the deep cut that ran from his ankle half way to his knee. It went all the way down to the bone, and she was fairly sure he'd fractured his ankle. It was just a good thing the blade had been slowed down by the water.

"How bad is it? I'm too cold to feel."

"I suggest you hold onto something," muttered Valerie, and reached for a bottle of something that she needed no label to tell was alcohol. It was definitely in its purest form. The smell was noxious.

Zane yelled when she began to pour. She poured half the bottle into the cut, until it overflowed, fizzing and stinging. It was a good thing they had it though. The lake water could have turned it into a nasty infection. "There. Hold still for a few minutes, and wait."

He did, but spent the entire time grumbling at her over it. Finally Valerie slapped him quiet, and pulled out some bandages. "You'll have to do this yourself. I don't have enough hands. Keep it tight, but not quite tight enough to cut off circulation."

Zane sat up stiffly, took the bandages, and neatly wrapped up his leg. "I don't think I want to walk around much after this. See if you can work that into your plan."

Valerie lay down beside him, squirming around until she was comfortable. "It's not as easy as you think, Zane— coming up with plans that work. It takes time and practice. Not everyone can do it. You ought to be more appreciative of my talents."

"So how do you make plans?" Zane slid into the jacket, and zippered it up. "Do we have any food?"

Valerie fumbled with a box of crackers a minute, and then handed it to him, slipping one into her mouth. "You make plans based on the most ridiculous thing you can think of. Then, you work out the details."

"Like?"

"Like fighting our way out. That was the most ridiculous thing I could think of that could succeed. I mean— it could, but no one thought it was possible for two people. Then the details. Get to the stairs where there are less people, and pick up something— that little explosive— that would hold everyone off. Go upstairs— the illogical route, and travel the roof, where there are less people." She held her hand out for more crackers.

Zane dropped a few into her hand. "That's all? That's not so hard."

"No; but how many other people would have thought of it? Truthfully, now, Zane."

He shrugged. "I could have."

"Would you have?"

"No."

Valerie nodded, and sat up to look through the bags for another jacket. "Exactly my point, you see."

"So what are we going to do?"

Valerie grinned. "You'll see. Tomorrow. Go to sleep."

"What about a watch?"

She shook her head. "We can't afford not to get the sleep, and I'll wake up if anyone comes near. Now go to sleep."

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**Aren't you angry at me for having to wait? I'm truly enjoying this story. It's so like Hitting Hard!**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	13. A Long Night

**Hello, as usual. I'm struggling to finish this story, but I'm sure I'll get it done. I've had a rush of ideas, and I'm working on several stories at once, so there will be another when this one is finished.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

Truthfully, Valerie hadn't the slightest idea about what they were going to do. Things were just getting worse and worse. The Tyrant had a fairly good idea of their general area, he knew the general area of the diamond, his men were all over, and they were both badly injured.

Going into the city would be dangerous, because so many people could see them— and it wasn't like they didn't stand out. But going into the city was also the best way to get transportation across Russia, make contact with people who could help them, and get medical attention and supplies. They would have to go into the city, she knew.

The hard part would be creating a believable cover, and keeping them out of the Mafia's way.

Valerie sighed, and rolled over onto her side, ignoring a twinge of pain from her hand. It was better with her arm like this, but she couldn't stop wondering if she'd ever get her hand back. Probably not. It had been more pulped than broken, and casts couldn't fix that. She wondered if it would be best to amputate it. But she didn't want to look bad, even if she couldn't use it. What if people wouldn't hire her?

"Can't sleep?"

Zane's voice startled her. Valerie didn't roll over to look at him though. She nodded slightly. "No. I'm not sure why. I just can't."

"You don't have an idea yet, do you?" He sighed, and stretched out slightly, brushing her hair. "You wouldn't go to sleep in the cell, and then in the middle of the morning, you must have got your idea, or something, because you got desperately excited."

Valerie snorted. "Humph. You would have too, if you'd discovered a way out of The Fortress."

"Really?" Zane laughed tiredly. "Yes, I suppose so."

Valerie stared upwards at the darkness of the sky. It felt like winter had come early. But perhaps that was just because she was so far up north. Something wet splashed on her face. "It's raining."

Zane mumbled something in assent. "So how'd a kid like you end up as a _hit_ woman? What are you— only eighteen?"

"I'll be nineteen in a few days!"

"That's still pretty young." Zane shifted onto his side so he wouldn't be looking up into the rain that was starting to leak down through the branches above them. "Granted— there's no doubt you're good enough for things— no one better! But not many kids get involved in the criminal world that young— I mean, that in depth."

"I started about three or four years ago. Gathering info. I picked up a few things, and helped Rivers handle things. Almost like a secretary. That was helpful. It taught me who was who, and how to get things done and bargain. I'm glad I had the opportunity."

"The hit woman thing, though— How'd you become that?"

Valerie squinched her eyes shut, curled up in a tight ball. "I wanted a better paying job— and with Rivers' connections, hit woman was not too demanding, and well paying. I kept on bothering him about it until he got angry and told me I couldn't have the job unless I went and killed damn Kusac Trabar. I was so angry I did. I got the job. About a year ago."

"How many have you taken out all together?" Zane sat up with a grunt of frustration, and pulled the hood over his face. "Is there anything we can do to keep the rain off of us?"

With a groan, Valerie rolled over against him. "Probably not."

"So how many?" He hesitated uncertainly, and finally curled up beside her, keeping a few inches between them. It felt like they were small children, huddled together in a bed, whispering conspiracies.

"Twelve."

"So I was your thirteenth job?"

She glared at him from under her lashes. "I'm not a superstitious nut."

Zane decided to change the subject. "What does your family think of you? Or are they in the same line?"

Valerie's entire body tensed in anger. She rolled over stiffly, showing him her back. "I'd rather not talk anymore. I'm a little tired. Why don't we go to sleep?"

That touchy subject again. The same as when he'd asked her her name, and who had taught her. There was something she didn't want to talk about, and nothing was going to force it out of her. He wondered if it was good to make her angry the way he was by asking questions. If she truly didn't know where the diamond was, she wouldn't kill him. But if she did, and she got angry, it wouldn't take much. It was hard to tell if she were telling the truth.

"Alright." Zane sighed, and shut his eyes. It was no use.

* * *

Valerie woke up slowly. Half of her was warm, and the other half wasn't, and it bothered her. She burrowed down into the warmth, turning her head away from the wetness of the rain that was blurring her vision.

"You awake?" Zane's fingers were suddenly brushing the hair out of her eyes.

It was a moment of acute embarrassment for Valerie. What a childish thing to do! Quickly, she sat up, pushing herself away from him in an effort to push the embarrassment to the side with him. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I didn't realize— I guess—"

"Forget it. Any ideas?"

"Ideas?" Valerie groaned tiredly, and dropped her head, scrubbing her eyes with the palm of her hand. "Just a second." She stopped after a minute, and looked around for the crackers.

Zane tossed the half-finished box into her lap. "You don't look so hot. You feeling alright?"

"If I wasn't, would you be surprised?" Valerie scowled, and dug her good hand into the box, tugging the much needed food out with impatience. "Any quack doctor could see I'm not in good shape. My hand— not enough food, water, or sleep. Over exertion, a great deal of mental stress, and unsanitary conditions. I'd say I'm not feeling quite right, but then again, that's all relative. It doesn't really matter, you know."

"Sorry." Zane squirmed, and then forced himself to ask— "But you do have an idea, don't you?"

"_No_!" snapped Valerie, as though it ought to be obvious. "Shut up while I think!"

Zane shut up.

"I think," she said finally, "that we're going to have to go into the city, because there are so many more options there. Transportation, food, supplies— all of that. Plus, no one would be so stupid as to walk into a city full of people looking for them. So no one will be looking for us. We just have to blend in. Easier said than done though, so we ought to—"

"Is this the way you come up with plans?" asked Zane with great curiosity. It was almost like she was unraveling the whole confusion out loud, only nothing much made sense.

"— to dress as tourists, which would explain our lack of understanding of the language. We might also want to separate."

The whole idea didn't sound very good, as Zane started to understand what they were going to do. Separating made sense, but he definitely did not want to do it. There was safety in numbers— particularly skilled numbers. It would be much safer, he felt, if they were together. Safer for him, at least. "How are we going to get tourist clothing and luggage; and passports; and explain our injuries; and get flights, which should have been prearranged, and—"

Valerie smacked at him in annoyance. "Trust me to figure it out, and be quiet. I'm thinking."

For a few long minutes, there was silence, except for the droning patter of raindrops on the pines. It had almost faded to a background hum, but the silence brought it back into consciousness again. It was almost winter. In the mountains, it would be colder still.

"We'll wing it. The idea of us posing as tourists, and not having all that is even more ridiculous than going into the city and posing as a tourist with it. Calculated risk. We can afford it."

"Are you sure?" Zane rolled over and looked down at her doubtfully. "That's an awful lot to wing. And if someone guesses, or gets suspicious, we're done for sure."

"Then I guess we'll have to be too good for them." With a grunt of pain, Valerie got to her feet and reached for the nearest pack. They would have to steal some things, but the rest wouldn't be so bad.

Zane caught hold of a branch, and pulled himself upright carefully. "What about my leg? I'm not going to perform so well. What about splitting up? Where and when will we meet? What if one of us gets killed? What is the other going to do?"

Grinning, Valerie began to pick and choose what they were going to take with them. "Stop worrying. I'll figure it out on our way into the city. Maybe I ought to advertise to the Mafia and pick up a few zeros for my bank account looking for myself."

"It isn't funny!"

"I know. I wasn't being funny."

Soon things had been reduced to the bare minimum, and Valerie straightened, throwing two packs across her shoulders, and motioning for him to pick up two on the ground. "Those are yours. There's food, water, weapons, a blanket."

"But what about money? What about papers? What about proper clothing?" Zane picked up his packs, clenched his teeth tightly, and hobbled after her through the trees.

"You know, Zane, I'm not just a hit woman." Valerie paused, waiting for him to catch up. "I have many resources, and— please don't think me prideful— but I've also got talent. I'll pick up whatever we need, when we need it. Until then, stop worrying."

Zane stopped, lifting his foot off the ground for a rest. "You— you specialize in more than one area?"

"All of them, actually." Valerie excluded the fact that she was better at some certain ones than others. It added to her aura of mystery if she kept all of her skills, limitations, and degrees of competence a secret. The more you could do— and do the right way— the more likely you were to get hired by someone who could pay a lot."

For an instant, Zane just studied her, unsure about whether or not he should trust her. Then he nodded. "Alright. You're in charge. What's the plan?"

Valerie turned, and began to walk again. "We're going to get as close as we safely can, and find somewhere safe. You camp there while I get what we need. While I'm snitching these certain items, I'll arrange the details of the next bit."

"Do you even _know_ what the next bit is?"

"Sure I do. We split up and try to make contact with anyone who could help us without drawing attention to ourselves. Then, we meet. If we've got help, great. If not, oh well. Then, we try to catch a ride out of the place. I'll consider the options when I've looked at them."

Zane groaned. Partly from physical pain, and partly from the absurdness of the whole idea. Sure the ridiculous had worked before, but then he had been able to risk things and cope with the high speed. He highly doubted he'd be able to do it again, he was in such bad shape. He could hardly walk, he'd lost lot's of blood the past few days, he was cold, wet, and tried, he hadn't eaten or drank much, and he was falling apart.

And yet, for some reason, this girl thought he was capable of helping her execute this ridiculous plan of action.

"You'll be fine. Come on." She turned again to watch him struggle over a fallen log, and shook her head. "You need a crutch, or something. You're not in the best of shape."

"I'm in shape!" protested Zane angrily. "I'm just injured and tired! I'm fine!"

"Don't argue with me." Valerie took out a knife, and began looking around for just the right branch. It didn't take her long to find one, cut it down, trim it, and clean it off.

Zane glared at her, but took the staff without comment, and strode alongside her. He hated to admit it, but it was definitely better with the staff than without it.

* * *

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	14. Trivial Robberies

**I'm sorry if things have gotten a little slow, but they do get complicated in the next chapter or so. Anyway, I have good news. I was going to nix the romance, but in about ten chapters (I'm writing ahead of my publishing), I just got it. I was afraid there wouldn't be any good oportunity, but it turns out there is. Sorry you have to wait so long, but it's better that way. There will be romance though.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

It was afternoon when they reached the city, and by then, both of them were exceedingly miserable. They were wet, and tired, and both in more than enough pain to enjoy the scenery. 

Valerie had insisted that they take the tedious, but safe route, picking their way through the trees instead of taking their chances on the road. Zane knew it was only reasonable, but it was tired, and he really did not care about the details so long as they could stop soon. His leg was killing him.

Finally, they were to the outskirts of the city, and Valerie let him rest in the long, swaying reeds under a bridge in a park they crept through.

"What are we going to do now?" Zane gave up trying to crouch, and lay down in the dirt and weeds and mud, stretching out his leg with a sigh of relief. "It's still pretty light."

"Probably four-ish." Valerie squinted at the sun, and then leaned over to examine the cut along his leg. It had started to bleed again while they walked, and the bandage was a dirty red. The mud that had splashed up here and there from the rain hadn't helped either.

Zane jerked. "That hurts!"

She shrugged and leaned back. "Too bad. You know if we have to run, you're probably going to be really slow? Quite liable and likely to get caught. Why don't you tell me where the diamond is?"

The silence under the bridge was uncomfortably thick. At last Zane forced himself to meet her eyes. "If I tell you where the diamond is, and we have to run for some reason, you'll be obliged to save me, which I'm sure you can. If you already know where the diamond is, then there's no point in saving me. I'm not stupid. I'll keep my secret."

Valerie scowled at him, but said nothing to deny the charges. After all, he was right, and he was only working for his survival. "Very well then. I will keep you alive. I will be charging an extra fee for all the trouble it cost me though. I hope your boss won't mind."

"I'm sure he won't." Zane froze suddenly, staring over her shoulder. "There's—"

"I know. She's harmless, trust me. Blind. You can tell from the way she walks. Besides, she's on the other side of the park, and even if she could see, we're hidden, it's raining, and rather dark. Just relax. You're too jumpy, you know that?"

"I'm only being cautious," grumbled Zane.

"An admirable quality, I'm sure, but I'm already cautious enough for both of us." Valerie elbowed him over, and stretched out in the reeds with him. "Rest for a little while."

"Then what?"

With barely contained annoyance, she sat up, and looked down at him. "And then I will snitch whatever materials we might possibly need to conduct our search for allies and further equipment. Do you have any contacts here who might be useful?"

"No."

He got a punch in the stomach for this.

Valerie suddenly realized she'd just hit him for hardly any reason at all, which made her feel bad, which added to her surely mood. "Sorry. I forgot you're sore. But what kind of— professional are you? You have no contacts at all in strategic places?"

"The Tyrant kindly informed me of their elimination when I first arrived at The Fortress."

"Oh." Valerie shut her eyes tiredly. This was the worst job she'd ever taken. She'd be lucky to get out with her life and her job, let alone with the diamond and Zane. Of course, if she did, she'd be famous beyond belief in the criminal world. She probably already was. Trevor and the others had probably already tattled about Trabar, and rumors about The Fortress and her escape would be bouncing all over the criminal world.

A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. A rare smile. The whole story would become a legend. She knew it would. She— Madam Ko, would become a legend. One without certain name. She'd made sure no one knew her real name. No one in the criminal world. No one who anyone could find. It added to the mystery she was building for herself.

"Do you have an idea?"

"No." Valerie turned around, not wishing him to discover that she had been imagining herself as a criminal legend. He might laugh at her. "Not exactly. Just be quiet for a while."

* * *

Around eight, Valerie ducked out from under the bridge, tucking a gun into the shoulder holster of her jacket. The jacket was certainly welcome on a night like this. The wind had really picked up, and it was raining hard. 

She wondered if it always rained this time of year in this place in Russia, or if they'd just accidentally stumbled upon a particularly long rain storm. Who knew? "I'll be back some time later tonight." She checked the area quickly, to make sure there was no one waiting to snatch Zane as soon as she left, made sure he was awake, and took off.

Because she did not know the city, it took her a while to figure out what she was going to do. The other problem was that she couldn't read or speak Russian. At the moment though, that was her definite lesser problem.

Slowly, Valerie made her way down town towards the center of things, and the technological height. And that wasn't saying much— it was considerably shorter than a stunted midget!

It took her only three hours to locate, break, and leave a small store with expensive clothing and suitcases. Then, it was back to the park to drop off the things with Zane so that she could more easily break into the next one. Hopefully some place with money and transportation papers. Both of those would be extremely welcome at the moment. And some place with a good long-distance phone…

The park was still. Quiet. Everything was exactly as she had left it, including Zane, who's eyes kept drifting shut, even as she talked to him. He managed to rouse himself slightly though, and pay minimal attention— enough to repeat in a monotone what she had said at least.

Valerie leaned over him, and shook his shoulders. "Zane? Are you alright?"

"No," he mumbled. "Do I look alright? I hurt all over. But go on. I don't matter." His eyes opened, and he smiled slightly. "Just really tired. I'll be alright. Go ahead."

After a moment more of studying him, Valerie ducked out from under the bridge, and glided off.

The city streets were dark, except for the occasional car. And by occasional— it was meant _very_ occasional. Not everyone had cars, and most of those that did were in their beds. A few bars were open here and there, but there weren't many people out.

Valerie finally located a bank. Breaking into it wasn't nearly as hard as breaking into an American bank. The security was a few years old. In a few minutes she was inside sorting out money as fast as she could. It wouldn't do to have huge bills, but they'd want quite a bit for expenses. They might not have another chance to stop.

There weren't any papers to be found, and she doubted she would be able to find anything more and get back before morning.

Reluctantly, she put the money into her pockets, and slipped out of the bank, hurrying back in the direction she'd come. The boots she was wearing were starting to bother her, and she had to stop once or twice to rub her bleeding ankles. They were dressy shoes. She wished she'd worn tennis shoes now— sandals— anything but these.

Finally, she kicked them off, and shoved them down a drain. The pavement and night air was cool, but it was more of a relief than a discomfort.

A noise behind her. Valerie spun.

No one there.

Something had made the noise though, and Valerie decided to take a short detour to throw anyone following her off track. She turned the corner, going slowly enough that they could keep up, and then stopped in front of a large jewelry store.

This had much more sophisticated security than the bank, but Valerie didn't worry about that. After a moment of looking around, she found a large rock, and heaved it into the front window.

There was a loud crash, and the glass tinkled as it sprayed across the street and the display cases inside.

Ignoring the alarms going off inside, Valerie hauled herself through the window, noting with satisfaction the confusion of her stalker out of the corner of her eye. No doubt he'd been told that she was dangerous and skilled. Right now, she looked like a juvenile delinquent.

She took her time looking around, and at last snatched a big blue diamond. Big for a regular diamond, that was. It wasn't the biggest diamond that had ever been, but if they ever had to have a substitute, this would do. The Tyrant would be _so_ disappointed to find this.

Sirens. Perfect. Valerie hurriedly took off her jacket, with it's gun and the bank money, and hid it in a bush around the corner. Then, she went back into the store, grinning as she saw whoever had been following her leave. They weren't going to be around when the police came, and apparently it wasn't her anyway.

When the police found her, she was trying to fit as many pearl necklaces as possible around her neck, and almost choking herself. No one thought to search her for a diamond, and Valerie solved the language problem by refusing to talk, and haughtily ignoring everything that was said to her.

After about twenty minutes of frustration on the part of the police, Valerie was shoved into the back seat of a police car, neatly cuffed.

Imagine the surprise of these illustrious law enforcers when they drew up in the station, and opened the back door. To be bluntly honest, there was no one there. The seat was empty, except for a pair of open handcuffs, and these, unfortunately, had been wiped free of fingerprints. It did not take long to find that there were no fingerprints at all.

In the mean time, Valerie had gone back for her jacket, and was already halfway to the park. The trick in itself had been very simple, and she got no end of amusement out of imagining the bafflement of the police. She'd simply picked the cuffs open, and hopped out of the car at a stop— with a few precautions, of course.

They'd get none of her fingerprints.

Soon, she was there. Zane looked up as she pushed her way through the grass. "Are you sure that old woman was blind?"

"Positive. Why? Did she come back?" Valerie gently lifted his leg to the side, and sat down beside him, pulling out the money, and cutting him half of the pile. "I broke a bank."

"What took you so long?"

Valerie shrugged and grinned slightly. "Someone was following me, so I lobbed at brick into a jewelry store, and let the police catch me. They decided it couldn't have been me, and left. I dropped out of the car when the cops weren't looking, and came back here."

Zane stared at her in horror. "You did _what_?" Ignoring his knee, he sat up sharply, looking around as if he were expecting so one to come bursting out at them at any moment.

"I took precautions," murmured Valerie demurely.

Slowly, slowly, Zane leaned back. "You're a fool, you know that? The police is full of the Mafia. By the end of the hour at latest this place'll be _crawling _with them!"

Valerie waved a hand impatiently. "We'll be fine. We're going to play the rich tourists, remember? If you, ah— don't mind posing as my husband. Either that, or I was adopted, and we're siblings of sorts. I find marriage much more plausible however."

Zane grunted and shrugged. "Truthfully, I don't care. But you must have papers?"

Valerie squirmed slightly. "Not exactly. No. We're going to pretend that they were stolen, and I'll have a breakdown if someone asks for them. It'll be less likely, this deep in Russia though. We'll buy tickets at the train station tomorrow, alright?"

Zane nodded, and got to his feet, picking up his packs. "I suppose we'd better start packing then?"

"I'll pack." Valerie took his packs, and laid them out neatly between the layers of clothes in his suitcase. Just in case someone happened to look. Just in case. "If you'll feel better, you can watch for the police, the Mafia, or stray assassins that happen to be hanging around."

He scowled at her, but said nothing while she packed. When she was done, he took the change of clothes she'd left out, stepped into a close bunch of trees, and changed, while she changed under the bridge.

In silence, they began to walk along the path out of the park, suitcases and baggage trailing along behind them. They looked surprisingly good for people who were falling apart, reflected Valerie.

Quite suddenly, Zane thrust her to the side, and practically crushed her as a shot rang out.

Then, it was still again.

* * *

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	15. Sun Ye On

**Sadly, I'm so allergic to research that I stumbled across the Sun Ye On and several facts about them by accident. I assure you, I never intended to include them when I began this story, but they added such a more interesting aspect than before, that I had to include them.**

**Oh yes, and whoever nominated me for the Orion Award, I love you dearly! I'm so excited, Hitting Hard, _and_ The Spark, _and _Flame of the Gods! (extreme giddiness ;))**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**

Valerie started to struggle, feeling half-suffocated by the enormousness of him. "Hush!" hissed Zane, and shoved her down again as he slid his gun out of the holster. "Don't move and lie still, will you?"

Hearing orders from his was something she wasn't certain how to respond to. After all, not many people wanted to cross her. The last orders she remembered obeying were her father's, three years ago— almost four now. But she obeyed Zane now.

It was quiet— the kind of quiet of someone _being_ quiet: of straining for an unnatural silence. Valerie shivered, and suddenly, Zane did not seem so heavy, and was a welcome protection from whatever, or whoever was hunting them from the shadows.

There was a sudden flurry of movement from Zane, and two quick shots, so close together that they almost melded into one.

Slowly, Zane rolled off her, reloading and returning the gun to its holster. "You didn't tell me there was someone out looking to kill you."

Valerie stood shakily. How had he reacted that fast? And why? "There isn't! Unless the Mafia figured things out and decided to get rid of me."

"And how could they have figured it out?" Zane shut his eyes and lay where he was without moving.

"I don't know." Valerie hesitated, and then edged towards where Zane had shot, every nerve throbbing with tension, adrenaline rushing through her, goaded by fear.

Zane lifted his head slightly. "It's safe— if there aren't more of them."

She almost stopped again, but she knew Zane was watching her, so she pushed through a bush to the base of a large oak tree. It was not anyone from the Russian Mafia— unless they were in the habit of employing Chinese hit men.

"This is interesting," muttered Zane. His voice, so close to her ear, startled her, and she flinched.

With a slightly laugh, Zane slid by her, and leaned over the fallen killer. "So now _you're_ afraid of little _me_? What irony, hm?"

Valerie flinched again, but this time it wasn't because she was afraid. Quickly though, she regain control of her temper. When you lost it, you were vulnerable to attack all the more, because it left you careless and irrational. Anger was bad. _Any_ emotion was bad, for that matter.

"Do you know anyone in China? Anyone? They could be friends too." Zane pulled open the body's shirt to check for something on his chest. He started visibly at what he saw.

"What?" She leaned closer.

His finger was resting on a tattoo. "The Sun Yee On. I sure as hell hope he just had some personal grudge against you! If we have to fight them _and_ the Mafia— they've got… how many people?"

Valerie groaned, and leaned back, shutting her eyes tightly. "Forty-seven thousand. And I have no idea why they would want me dead either. A personal reason seems more likely. I did kill a certain Chinese person. If he was related to this man—"

"Much easier to understand," interrupted Zane, "but first let's consider what we want to do if the whole triad's after us. They're the biggest CO in the _world_!"

Slowly, Valerie leaned back. Things were so… complicated. They made no sense. And now she couldn't think. Bother. Start at the beginning, she thought. Think through your life. Any other Chinese incidents?

_Six years old…_

_"If you ever see anyone who looks Oriental, tell me, Valerie! It's very important! Particularly if they're… Chinese." Her father patted her on the head, and rose off his knees, looking down at her. "Come on? Do you want me to push you on the swing?"_

_Seven years old…_

_Her father's hand tightened on hers, and suddenly, he was jerking her around the corner, and holding a hand over her mouth. She looked up, and followed his gaze across to the street to an elderly looking Chinese man, shuffling along with a cane towards a taxi._

_Nine years old…_

_Valerie hurried down the school steps to where her father was waiting. "Why did you call me out? We were having art, and—"_

_"Hush! We have to leave the city for a few days. Get in the car, and tell me if you see a Chinese man following us in a red car."_

_Twelve years old…_

_Her mother's voice drifted quietly through the vent from the next room. "You didn't see anyone, did you? You're too paranoid, John! Every little Chinese child you see! Is it really necessary? Making us move here? Changing our names? Are you sure they really want you dead?"_

_"You know they do! Stop lying to yourself! I know something I shouldn't, and I'm alive! That's a problem for them! They hired me, expecting to kill me, and they couldn't! How do they know I won't sell their secrets to another government? They _don't

_Fifteen years old…_

_"Them? Who knows? Some secret foreign thing. The guy who hired us looked demonic, he said. All creepy, like those ninja things they have in movies every now and then. Maybe the target was involved in some secret government affairs."_

"My father," she whispered. "He knew something he wasn't supposed to know, and they think I know too."

"Do you?" Zane looked up sharply, as he settled back onto his heels.

"No." Valerie glanced down at the body in front of her. _Why_? Of all the things to happen, why had her father found out? And of all the times for the triad to come after her, why now?

She knew why, though. They must have been watching her all these years. They must have figured she was getting too dangerous, particularly after The Fortress. Now would be the ideal time to attack, of course. She was weak, and there were other people after her. The chances that she would die, some way or another, were greatly increased.

With a cough, Zane climbed to his feet, and picked up the body. "I'll dispose of him. Then, we need to talk."

"Search him for anything that might give us ideas!" Valerie watched him move off into the bushes. The body would be fine there. No one would find him until they were far enough away not to arouse suspicion. Besides— they were dressed as wealthy tourists.

A few minutes later, Zane dragged himself free of the branches. "Nothing. He came clean."

"Alright then, let's go." Valerie felt a sudden urge to get as far away as she could from the area. She'd never been hunted. Never had so little control. She'd always been the one making the calls.

"I'd better change first," sighed Zane. "I wouldn't want to walk into the station with _blood_ on me."

Her head snapped up. "Please," she breathed, "please tell me you did not seriously get hurt _again_!"

"Just a minor flesh wound. Besides, we can always pretend that we get a vacation to recover from some severe injuries acquired in an accident a few weeks ago.

Valerie groaned, and finally jerked off his jacket, pulling him around so that she could observe the rapidly growing red spot on the sleeve of his white shirt. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing it just nicked you. It didn't even really hurt the muscle. If it had been worse though, you'd be in a lot of trouble right now, so try not to repeat the incident."

"You're welcome," muttered Zane through clenched teeth. "Do you know what the word: '_gentle_' means?"

"Never heard of it." Valerie unpacked another shirt and jacket along with a roll of bandages, wrapped up his arm, and took the bloody clothes, and trotted them over to a nearby garbage can. Half a disguise wasn't a disguise at all. They couldn't risk questions if the clothes were accidentally found.

She returned a minute later, and once again picked up her bags. "Very well then, let's be going, shall we?"

Around five, they were picked up by a taxi out early, in the tourist section of town, near a couple of hotels. The driver had broken English, but understood them well enough, and soon they were at the train station.

Though it was still dark, there were lines, and it was six by the time they were at the window. Valerie forced herself to smile at the dawdling fool at the window, and asked for two first-class apartment tickets to St. Petersburg. They been standing in open view for much too long, and it worried her. Any number of people could have seen them.

Twenty minutes later, they were inside the apartment, exhausted from trying to explain to some boy that they were keeping their baggage with them, and that they did not want to hire him to carry it.

Valerie motioned for him to put the baggage in the corner, and set about examining their surroundings for bugs, both computerized and real. "You lie down and get some sleep. You really need it. I'll wake you up if I need you. Remember we're married if anyone comes, will you?"

Zane grunted, and dropped down on a bunk with a sigh of relief. "What about escape routes?"

"I'm assuming the enemy would come through the door. Crawl out the window in that case, and climb on top of the car. Don't fall." Valerie opened the window as far as it would go, and twisted her head out, smiling in satisfaction at the rail on top.

"Get your head in here!" Zane was halfway out of the bed before she heard him. He pulled her inside with a jerk, and slammed the window shut, dropping the curtains. "Now who's acting the idiot? Do you want to risk someone seeing you _again_? Or worse, picking you off? That was not ridiculous, that was _stupid_! Do it again, and I'll hurt you!"

For some reason, Valerie found herself believing that he could, and would. "I'm sorry," she muttered sullenly.

Zane let go of her, suddenly looking tired again, and limped back to the bunk. "You ought to lie down too. You don't look so good."

"And I suppose you think _you_ do."

Zane smiled at her in his most annoying manner. "I hate to break your pretty picture, but I _always_ look good. In the best of times— in the worst of times. Get used to it, and give up your jealousy."

Valerie sniffed, and lay down on the bunk opposite of him. "And I thought you were the adult here. I see I was wrong. You can't get much more childish than that, you know."

"If someone sees us, will they think it's odd we're sleeping on separate bunks?" asked Zane after an uncomfortable pause. The question didn't do much to lower the uncomfortablness, thought it eliminated the pause.

"I'm sure they will." Valerie stood with a sigh, and moved across to him, grabbing hold of a chair back as the train started with a jolt. "We probably ought to come up with stories and names and everything too. Always be prepared for the worst, you know."

Zane scooted over, giving her room, and shut his eyes. "I assume you've already worked things out."

"Yes." Valerie glared at him in annoyance. "I always know what I'm doing! Why do you question that? Now shut up, and listen while I tell you who you are!"

With a superior smile, that said he knew he'd annoyed her, Zane shut his mouth, and gave every impression of being the dutiful and attentive student that he was not.

Valerie took several very deep breaths, and babbled tidbits for about an hour and a half. Zane was born in Chester, Vermont. Same date, same age. They'd met at the University of Oklahoma, where he'd been studying business, and she art. They'd married two years ago, on her twentieth birthday, and—

Someone knocked.

Slowly, Valerie got to her feet, and crossed the floor to the door. This time the knock was louder. Carefully, so as not to let anyone know she was just on the other side, Valerie leaned over, and looked through the crack at the bottom of the door. The shoes were not those of a conductor, another passenger, or an attendant.

They were military boots that had tracked an awful lot of mud across the carpet.

* * *

**I want people's opinion. I have to chose one story (for the Orion Award judging), and I think I've already made up my mind, but please tell me if you think Hitting Hard,or Flame of the Gods is better in the action category.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	16. Double Highjacking

**Just so you know, I do think murder is wrong, and I would never kill someone. However, Valerie, as my character is capable of it, and even would. Sorry if it bothers you, but it's not really bloody or anything, like some other chapters were.**

**Oh yes, and I've only got about two and a half chapters more left to write. This chapter is halfway through. I'm so excited! Hopefully, I can finish another story before the school year's over, and then my friend can update over the summer. I really wanted to get my A/H done.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

Again, more impatiently, came the knock. 

Valerie glanced back at Zane, and from the look on her face, he knew it was trouble. "Just a minute!" he called, quickly rumpling his jacket, so that it looked as if he'd thrown it on in a hurry. As fast as he could, he opened the bags, and pulled out a small gun, slipping it into his pocket so that he could shoot without alerting someone that he was about to.

"It's important! Open up!" The English was rough, but there was no mistaking the tone. Strangely, the accent wasn't Russian. It had an Asian flavor to it.

Valerie caught the gun Zane tossed her, and dropped to the floor as though she were searching for something before opening the door.

For a moment, the Chinese man in the doorway looked confused. There was no one directly in front of him. Zane was there, of course, standing at an odd angle that would have been uncomfortable to shoot him from, but who had opened the door?

Then, suddenly, there was a gun under his chin, forcing his head back at a very uncomfortable angle. A second later, and he had been relieved of all the weapons on his person, which mostly consisted of a small knife and a bottle of something suspicious, and was lying on the floor of the apartment, door shut and locked behind him.

"Toss me the rope, will you?" Valerie nodded to the suitcases, and poked her captive irritably in the neck when he started to squirm. "Lie still!"

"What are you doing? What are you doing? I don't have any money, I swear!" He made a noise rather like the squeal of a pig when Valerie jabbed him with the gun again, thrashing around in a pointless, but annoying tangle of limbs.

Valerie finished tying him in a minute, and rolled him over, unbuttoning his shirt. "Yeah, yeah. Everyone says that accept me, you know. Let's see your tattoo, and then you can tell me you don't know what I'm doing to my face. You were sent here to— Damn!"

Zane took a half-step forward, looking worried, as she suddenly stopped. "What's the matter?"

"He hasn't got a tattoo." Valerie crossed her legs, and leaned forward, touching her forehead to the floor. After a moment of quiet muttering to herself, she straightened.

"Hasn't got a…"

Valerie nodded, tight lipped.

"What tattoo?" the man on the floor sputtered. "I have certainly _not_ got a tattoo! They're indecent! They're immoral! They hurt!"

Zane glared at Valerie. "You know? You're starting to make more mistakes than is good for us. If this keeps up, we really are going to be dead. Perhaps you don't realize that we have the Mafia, and the Sun Ye On wandering around out there looking for us? With really big guns?"

The man, who was rather fat, stared up at them in horror, licking pasty lips. "The— Sun Ye On? Oh please, please let me go!" He began to struggle again, more wildly, this time.

Valerie smacked him. "Stop that!" She hesitated, and then shoved him under the bed, straining to fit his fat, wobbling stomach after him.

Quickly, she stood up, and brushed herself off. After checking to make sure he couldn't be seen unless someone leaned over and looked at him, she took a firm hold on Zane's shirt, and pulled him across to sit on the other bunk with her. "Zane? We have to do something with him. If we let him go, he'll babble, and you know we can't afford to keep him."

Zane frowned at her. "Just what are you suggesting that we do?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Valerie stood, drawing her gun. "My rules, Zane. Don't think I don't feel bad for him, but it's the rules. I never break my rules."

Zane caught hold of her arm tightly, as she started to stand. "Maybe you should."

Valerie shook him off. "It's the rules Zane. And believe me, neither of us can kill each other, because we need the other person to survive, but there's nothing saying I can't hurt you. And you know I can, even like this. And you don't need anything more."

There was a squeak from the bunk opposite, and they both looked up, as the pudgy little Chinese man squeezed out from under the bunk, panting. "I was just…" He petered off under Valerie's glare.

With great difficulty, he climbed to his feet, keeping up a constant stream of grunts of concentration.

Valerie waited until he was standing before wrenching free of Zane's grasp, and pointing the gun at him. "Alright. Try as few words as possible, and tell us what was so important that you had to bungle in here, and everything you might care to disclose about the Sun Ye On. Remember, you're going to die anyway, so no one can punish you."

"It's just— the train's been hijacked, and there are people coming through the cars stealing people's stuff, and I was telling everyone in this section because I can speak English, and the others can't, and they should be here soon, and they had guns, and I think they might be part of the Sun Ye On, but I don't know, and I'm scared, and—"

"And that's enough," sighed Valerie. "Any Mafia?"

His squinty little eyes widened again. "N— No."

"I'll bet they'll wait to hijack our hijackers until farther on. Perhaps from the outside." Valerie shut her eyes to cracks, watching the man in front of her from beneath long eyelashes.

"Are you going to hurt me?" he whispered fearfully.

"Not— hurt you. It won't hurt, understand." Her voice was quiet, and actually soothing: something that surprised Zane. "Just relax. It's fast, you know. Here, and then there. No time to think. Why worry? You look like a nice enough man."

And then, suddenly, before he could open him mouth to respond, and before he saw the gun and got nervous again, she snapped the gun out of her shoulder holster, and pulled the trigger.

There was a heavy thud, as his body sagged to the floor. Zane didn't move. Neither did Valerie.

Finally, Zane opened another suitcase, and pulled out the bags stored inside it. "Just one thing, Madam. If you ever start talking to me like that, be warned that I will shoot before I ask my questions. And I would really like to avoid that situation. I need you as much as you need me."

"Are you sure I need you?" There was no tone, no emotion in her voice, which made the question all the more frightening.

"If you didn't need me, would you have encumbered yourself with me?"

Valerie swung one of the packs onto her shoulder. "What's the most ridiculous thing I could do, Zane? That's all you need to remember. Would I be expected to?"

Zane turned quickly, and looked out the window. "I don't think now is the time to discuss it. What should we do with his body?"

"Under the bed. If someone sees him, they'll shoot, and won't know they weren't the one's who killed him. We'll take the roof back to the front of the train, where it'll be safer, no doubt. Less fighting, since they've already taken over up there."

They heard a faint shout then— perhaps from someone two cars up. "Enough talk," spat Zane. "Get out the window, and climb like hell's trying to catch you."

"Not good enough," returned Valerie, opening the window. "It's been trying to catch me for years. I escaped it once or twice you know. Try heaven. The thought of being good scares me."

The shouters were louder now, and nearer. Valerie squeezed through the window with effort, clinging to the frame as best she could with her good hand. Zane shouted something at her from inside the car, and pushed her, almost making her let go. He'd forgotten that she only had one hand— and she couldn't hear what he was saying over the wind caused by the speed of the train. Probably something about the Sun Ye On getting closer though.

Valerie gritted her teeth, and lunged for the railing encircling the roof of the car, catching hold of it just as her feet slipped out of the window. She dangled there, waiting, and wishing desperately that Zane would hurry up. The speed of the train made it all the more difficult to hang on, and she was being battered violently against the side of the car.

She felt Zane shove her feet to the side in impatience, and swing out, kicking the window shut as he caught hold of the rail. "What's the—" He stopped with a swear word as he suddenly realized why she hadn't moved, and struggled onto the roof of the car, lying as flat as possible, and hooking his arm around the rail before catching hold of her wrist.

"Hurry up! Kick your feet up so I can roll over!" He looked worried now, tearing his gaze from her, to the car ahead of them, to her.

Valerie groaned, struggled a moment, and finally managed to swing her body up high enough for Zane to pull her onto the car. For a few minutes, she lay there, eyes closed, regulating her breathing.

Once she was done with this whole, crazy thing, she was going to retire with a nice fat bank account, and never get in so much as a cat fight again. She might have been in good shape, but the stunts were becoming more and more radical. Radical might be cool, but it wasn't healthy.

"Are you okay?" Zane crouched over her uncertainly, not knowing what to do, and feeling entirely too vulnerable out in the open, like this.

"I— guess," gasped Valerie. "Just a minute."

From below, they heard shouts. First confused, then furious. Someone must have known which car they were in. And if they weren't there, it meant either they'd gotten lucky, or they'd found out. Obviously, the Sun Ye On weren't happy that their target had gotten away.

Zane looked back down at Valerie's face. She was in pain, that was obvious. Him? Yeah, he hurt here and there. His foot, his back, and where she'd hit him in the shoulder the other day. But it was just a sore pain. Her hand must be hurting. _Really_ hurting.

How was she dealing with it? "Take your time. They aren't going to figure it out." Actually, he really wished she'd hurry up, because he wanted to get out of there as fast as he could, but it wouldn't help to rush her.

An amused smile twitched the corner of her mouth. "What's bothering you, Zane?"

"Nothing." Slowly, he lifted his head, squinting against the wind, and listening to the noises below. "I just wish we could take the diamond, and get out of Russia. I wish you had a plan, and I wish we weren't anywhere near the Sun Ye On."

Valerie sighed tiredly. "So do I, Zane. But—" Her eyes narrowed. For barely a second, she listened, and then tugged her gun out of it's holster, and struggled over to the side, releasing the safety.

Zane watched in fascination as she listened, and then suddenly leaned over with an unnerving smile. "Why, hello. I wonder what you're doing?" And then she pulled the trigger.

There was a crash, and swearing, and shouting, and a loud tinkling of glass, over the soft whir of the wheels on the tracks. Suddenly, he found himself being pulled to the front of the car by Valerie, who had regained all of her lost energy, and was urging him to jump from one car to the other, much to his horror. _That_ would kill him for sure.

This was craziness. There was no other word for it. They were going to die, and that would be the end of all their plans for fame and glory.

Finally though, because she wouldn't stop shoving him, he pulled his feet under him, and launched himself into a jump. It was only about two thirds of a meter, but he nearly missed it anyway, and Valerie pushed him down flat when she joined him.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed. "When I tell you to do something, you do it! Do you want to get us both killed?"

"We're going to die anyway," said Zane miserably.

Valerie shook him impatiently. "No we're not! Do you hear me? I said we're not! I'm not going to let either of us die! I've already broken out of The Fortress! I'm going to get the diamond, and I'm going to get us both out of this hell alive! Do you hear?"

The train jerked, and then it started to stop. Even though there was no station, city, herd of animals wandering on the track, or a bound and gagged heroine. There was, however, and awfully big tank of fuel, as Valerie saw when she raised her head to look.

A tank that would have blown the front of the train into fine ash.

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**Ah yes, someone brought to my attention that I do not review that many other people's stories, though I've tried to instead of paying attention during computer class. If you know of a really good story I'm not reviewing, or want me to read yours or something, you need to _tell_ me, because I don't have time to search for stories. Really. I am shameless self-promoter anyway, and I don't mind at all.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	17. Explosions

**I'm not sure just how big and dangerous an explosion like this would be, but if my assumptions are wrong, forgive me. This is not a gory chapter, if you're worried, either.**

**Anyway, I was furious to learn that someone on yahoo is using the username refloc already. I was going to create a new acount, solely for ffnet, but it was already taken. I was slightly curious, you know, to see who owns it. If you do people searchs, there's no Eoin Colfer out there... I wonder if he had the clever idea of spelling his name backwards.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

"Oh… _damn_!" Valerie pulled him down flat, smashing his head flat against the roof of the car. "Don't move. Yet. Minimize the target." 

"Which side are they on?"

"All of them," snapped Valerie. And then the shooting started.

It took about three minutes, before they realized that the Mafia was keeping the Sun Ye On away from them with their bullets, and making an obvious effort not to hit either of them.

Valerie swore eloquently. "They want us alive."

"But we can always bust out again," protested Zane. "They don't even have The Fortress this time! What's the problem?"

The Mafia were getting closer to the train now. After all, the Sun Ye On would have had difficulty infiltrating a large amount of their men into the country on such short notice, and it would have been even more difficult to get many on the train.

"Oh, nothing. It's just that there's going to be a war over us now— between the Mafia and the Sun Ye On. In case you hadn't figured that out yet. The Mafia won't want to give us up, and the Sun Ye On will want to kill us both." Valerie raised her head slightly, looking around, and studying the land.

"Get your head down!" Zane reached out to pull her flat, but Valerie slapped his hand away. "The Mafia aren't going to shoot us, they're trying to protect us. Besides, the Sun Ye On isn't even within range."

"What if they start shooting straight up?"

Valerie set her ear against the roof of the car, and listened. "There's nobody down there."

"What are we going to do?"

Valerie looked around again. "I think we should create a diversion. And then I think we should run away."

"I think that's a good idea," muttered Zane. "So how do we do that?"

Slowly, Valerie drew out her biggest, longest gun. "Do you think I can hit that tank from here?"

Zane winced. He didn't like the sound of this. "I don't think you _should_. Why?"

"Start running. Along the top of the train. Or— wait. Let's run _towards_ the tank, and I'll shoot, and we can jump into that big ditch farther up." Her eyes sped along the course which they would take to flee the sight. "And then we take one of their vehicles, and floor it."

"Is there some reason I'm not liking this idea?" Zane grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "Is there a slight possibility that this might be dangerous? Or hadn't you considered that?"

Valerie rolled her eyes. _Oh the drama…_ "Look around you, Zane. Come on."

Zane saw her point. Literally, and metaphorically. "Fine. If you say so. But when we're dying, I'm going to tell you I told you so."

Without bothering to reply, Valerie climbed to her feet, looked around one more time, and started running. Zane was soon close behind her. They couldn't afford to waste more time, and if she was willing to risk it, he might as well too. He couldn't survive too well without her.

It took a little longer than she had thought it would to reach the engine, but Valerie was not too worried. The few Mafia members coming towards them were taking their time. They obviously saw no reason to hurry. Both Zane and she were injured, and even if they did get away, it would be for long. And of course, it couldn't have possibly occurred to them that anyone could be stupid enough to put a bullet in the tank.

Their loss.

Valerie climbed off the train, and pulled Zane towards the ditch. "They won't think it strange that we go down into it. It's too wide to jump across. Come on."

Convinced this was his last few minutes on earth, Zane gritted his teeth, and clamored down after her into the mud, wondering why he bothered. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"No, did you think it was?" Valerie lifted the gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger.

Like he'd done at the park, Zane was suddenly covering her, pressing her into the bank and holding her there, while the flames from one explosion ignited another, and the engine blew up. He covered her ears, and pushed her head down, while pieces of twisted metal rained down all around them, charred and black.

Valerie gave herself the luxury of one whimper when a piece of metal hit her exposed arm, slicing into it, and burning her. Then, she was quiet again. The only reason she'd allowed herself that release of pain was because everything was too loud for Zane to have heard it, and it helped her deal with the it.

The more you bottled up pain, the harder it became to deal with it. Only one long practiced in the area could cope with large amounts of pain. She was good, but she was struggling with the pain in her hand, and she didn't need an injured arm to distract her.

The noise and the hail of metal began to lessen, and Valerie quickly pulled back. "You'd better not have gotten hurt again, Zane!"

He straightened with a wince from his back. "Surprisingly, I'm unharmed. What about you?"

"It can wait. We can't. We've got to get one of those—" She stopped, hearing the shouts of more men hurrying in their direction. "Forget it. Let's go!"

They ran down the ditch until it ended, about twelve minutes later, hidden under the cover of smoke and confusion. Valerie did not pause to see if there was anyone nearby; she grabbed Zane's hand, and struggled up the bank, hauling him after her.

To her obvious relief, there was no one around, but there were plenty of cross-country vehicles. They were a little big for her liking, but it appeared they had good traction, and not only were the gas tanks pretty full, but they had little tanks in the back, in case of long treks.

Even better, they were unlocked, the keys were there, and this time she knew to look for the tracker and the transmitter. The transmitter was broken, and the tracker, she removed from the car, and set on the ground— as a little present for anyone looking for her.

That done, she climbed in, motioning for Zane to drive. "My arm's too bad for that."

Zane slammed his door, and glanced across at her good arm, questioningly. He winced. "I'm sorry— I forgot your arm was up there. I should have made sure you—"

"Just drive. It wasn't your fault." Valerie leaned back, eyes flickering around for anyone that might need to be removed, if they happened to see which direction a particular vehicle left the area in.

Luckily for them, no one did. No. They were all more worried about finishing off the Sun Ye On, threatening the passengers with death if they told anyone there had been a gunfight, and trying to figure out how many of their people had died in the explosion.

Oh, yeah— they were really hoping that Madam and Zane were alive still, too. Because if they weren't, The Tyrant wasn't going to be very happy with them. After all, that diamond was important, and they were the only ones who knew where it was, that he could get his hands on.

For a long time, they drove across fields towards the north east. A little past mid-afternoon, Zane stopped, and filled the fuel tanks again. Around midnight, he did the same thing.

Valerie went in and out of a fitful sleep, unwilling to allow herself the rest she needed, partly because she did not trust Zane not to fall asleep, and partly because she was worried that the Mafia would find them sooner than she was hoping they would.

Finally, they were out of gas. Valerie woke up again as Zane stopped the car, and looked around at the trees on one side, and the bushes on the other. "Can we go any farther?"

"There's no gas left. That's it. We rolled the last few feet."

She nodded tiredly, and unbuckled herself. "Have you seen anything or anyone?"

"No." Zane pulled a flashlight out from under the seat, and turned it on. "You ought to let me bandage your arm up."

Valerie nodded, and leaned back her seat, holding out her arm. "Go ahead; just be gentle."

For a second, Zane looked at her. "Gentle? I don't know what that means. I've never heard of it before." He smiled slightly, to calm the uneasiness of the moment, and reached for one of the bags. "Relax. I'll try."

"You'd better," grumbled Valerie. She shut her eyes and waited.

She wasn't expecting the alcohol, but all she did was tense, and then settle again, as it seared her cut with new pain.

"Sorry." Zane carefully wiped out the grime and gunk that had built up in the cut, tightening his grip on her arm when she flinched. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "Almost done."

"It's fine," whispered Valerie.

But he could tell it was not. They both knew she was struggling with the pain. Now both her arms were injured. One, she couldn't use. The other was really going to hurt.

Gently, he began to wrap the bandage around her arm.

"Tighter!" snapped Valerie. "I won't be able to use it otherwise!" She struggled to glare at him, but finally gave up, and focused on controlling the pain in her hand and arm.

Fine! If she wanted it that way, he supposed he could give it to her. Zane tugged impatiently on the bandage. Valerie jerked, and when rigid in her seat with a slight gasp, but she did not pull her arm away. "I'm sorry," she choked. "I wasn't expecting it."

Feeling bad, Zane reached out to steady her. She was shaking. "You can't handle this anymore, Madam! You can't! You need a pain killer or something! A hospital!"

"No. I'm fine."

"No you're not fine!" Zane was angry now. "Maybe we should forget the stupid diamond, and just get out of the country!"

"No." Valerie's annoyance helped her manage the pain, but she made sure she had tight control of it. Extreme emotions of any kind were bad. They made things difficult.

"You don't need to be the damn hero!" Zane finished bandaging her arm, and leaned over her. "You've already done enough! People become heroes when they die! You can prolong that! Don't do something stupid, Madam! You're good! You're _really_ good!"

Valerie felt her face twitch, and then harden. "It's not about heroics. It's about my rules."

"To hell with your rules! Surely they can be ignored this once!"

Valerie felt things that she did not want to face welling up inside her. "You don't understand, do you? If you build your life on something, and then you disown it, you disown who you are, and your whole life crumbles, and falls down in little pieces!"

"What are you talking about?" Zane stared at her in confusion.

"My life is built on my rules. If I break one, I break them all, and not only have I failed, but I have lost." Valerie was trembling again. "I've seen— people break their rules! I _know_! I know, Zane! Oh, damn… he should have killed him! You fool!"

Zane leaned back, knowing that she was remembering something: or more particularly, someone. Someone that had failed her. Someone that had broken their rules. And now she was scared to break her own.

"I'm sorry," said Valerie woodenly. "I lost control of myself. Please forgive me. It will not happen again."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Zane asked, "Why wouldn't he kill him?"

Valerie looked at him pleadingly, begging him not to ask with her eyes. Looking frightened like a cornered animal. "Because—" She began to tremble again. "Because— because he was a child!"

"Why should he have shot a child?" Zane stared at her in growing pity and confusion.

"Because he saw! And he told! And they're all… dead," whispered Valerie, who he was now sure was about to cry. "They're _all_ dead!"

* * *

**(Just so you all know, I think I'm going to pull the whole romance idea. It's just not working for me. I think it would be really forced, if I did do it, and… yeah. I tried it in several of my other drafts, and it didn't work.)**

**That was what I wrotetwenty-six days ago. Then, I had a brilliant moment of inspiration, last week, and wrote at least fifty-seventy-five pages of junk in which there is definite romance, though I was never quite sure if they were all the way in love. Anyway, to everyone who's been begging for it, I promise you things will happen, because otherwise the ending couldn't happen, and all of that. Patience. Patience. Chapter Twenty-five, if you must know.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	18. A Chandelier

**In this chapter, you finally find out where the diamond is. (grins) I know it's an odd place, but it delivers a deliciously complicated problem, because now she has to get it down.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

* * *

"Who's all dead?" 

Valerie looked up at him accusingly. "Even the baby! Even him!" She drew her legs up underneath her, and set her head on her knees. "You should have shot him! Oh, you fool… you should have shot him."

For a while, Zane said nothing. He just sat there, and watched her struggle with herself, not even sure of what she was fighting with. Someone should have shot some child, and because they didn't, the child had told someone something, and a whole bunch of people were dead— even the baby. It made no sense, but he couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

Finally though, he reached out, and touched her shoulder. It was getting cold, and they needed to move.

Valerie started, and jerked her head up, staring at him. Her eyes were dry, but he could tell she desperately wanted to cry. Probably the only thing keeping her was him.

"You're just a little kid, aren't you?" Zane pushed back her hair, and leaned over to look her in the eye. "You're just a little kid, and the world was mean to you."

A sob shook her slender body, but still no tears came.

Zane sighed, and opened the door. "Come on. We need to keep walking. You know that."

Slowly, obediently, Valerie climbed out of the car, and waited for him to come around, head bent against the sharpness of the wind. When he set his hand on her arm, she didn't look up, but she fell into step beside him. She felt like a fool, but—- she wanted to tell someone. She wanted to tell him what had happened. She wanted to tell someone she was scared.

But that would be breaking her rules.

On and on they walked. Valerie did not look up, as the sun rose, and she did not argue with Zane when he pulled her into the tall, dry grasses that grew with the trees along the edges of the fields they were walking through.

Zane swished his way through it, pulling her along behind him towards a large oak. They wouldn't be seen here. The grass was up to his chin, and the tree would hide them from above. Quickly, he pushed down some of the grass into a mat, and ducked down, out of view.

"You need sleep, Madam. Lie down."

Valerie glanced up for an instant. "I'll take the first—"

"You will not," he said tartly. "I told you to lie down, and I meant it. You can't take much more of this. Surely you've realized that already? The way you've been acting?"

After wasting a few seconds of glaring at him, Valerie lay down. She was unwilling, but she did it. After all, he was right about the way she'd been acting. It was appalling— horrendously unprofessional. She was acting like the child she wasn't. She was acting like the child she wished she was, and should have been. But she had no time for childishness and children. A child was innocent, and she was not.

Zane nodded, and leaned against the tree, looking down at her. "What should I do if someone gets near here?"

"Wake me up." Valerie yawned, and twisted around at an odd angle, so that her arms did not bother her. "I don't think they will, but they might, and I'll need to see them to know what to do."

"Right."

By the time the sun had risen, Valerie was asleep. Zane stood leaned up against the tree, scanning the fields and sky all around them for any signs of a disturbance; for anything unnatural, that shouldn't be there. Nothing came however, and except for the hunger pangs in his stomach, his various hurts had settled down to a small ache.

He wondered if he ought to tell her where the diamond was. Perhaps it wouldn't be wise. Perhaps she already knew, though he sincerely doubted it. If she had, she would have dumped him long ago, no matter how ridiculous keeping him was. If she knew, she would probably leave him.

Not that he particularly blamed her— things were dangerous enough as it was, and he slowed her down. But life was life, and he didn't like to throw it away as though it were nothing.

Choices. He shook his head, and shifted with a sigh. They were always difficult.

Slowly, bit by bit, the sun dropped lower in the sky. It would be dark in about twenty minutes. Zane began to relax his vigilance, and was about to wake up Valerie when he heard the helicopter.

Valerie heard it too, because she started awake, and bumped her arm against a root.

"Are you alright?" He dropped down beside her, and pressed flat against the ground. "There's a copter coming. Just one, I think, though there are probably others in the area. What should we do?"

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and rolled onto her stomach with a groan. "I think we should get ourselves captured."

"You're _kidding_! After all that trouble we went to, to stay _un_captured?"

Valerie nodded. "Yes. We get some food, some medical attention, and probably a shower. The Tyrant will switch tactics. He'll try being persuasive, and attentive. And we will suck it up, and tell him where the diamond is."

Zane glared at her in frustration. "And we'll tell him where the diamond is. What are you trying to _do_?"

"Make things easier for us." Valerie stretched, and then curled back up comfortably. "Once he has the diamond, we steal it from him, and get the hell out of Russia. We live happily ever after as rich legends. End of story."

"That sounds too easy."

"You're right," yawned Valerie. "It is too easy. The Sun Ye On will want me dead. So the Mafia will probably fight with them over me, making things more difficult. And besides that, we have to make sure we aren't shot as soon as The Tyrant has his diamond."

"Well that makes things all better then." Zane pounded his fist against the side of the tree in frustration. "Stop playing with me, Madam! I'm sick of this! I want _out_!"

"What do you think _I_ want?" Valerie looked up at towards the sound of the copter. They were flying slowly. Back and forth. They'd probably already detected them, and were waiting for backup. After what they'd done to the first copter, they wouldn't want to land alone.

Zane sighed. "Look: I'm sorry. But we've got to do something!"

"Do you trust me?" She reared up on an elbow, and look at him hard. "Do you trust me enough to tell me where the diamond is, and wait for me to come back and bust you out?"

"You mean, am I willing to trust you with my life."

"Yeah." Valerie brushed the hair out of her eyes, and strained to hear. Soon, the other copters would be here. They didn't have much time.

"I don't know."

Valerie shook her head, and stood up. "You'd better decide soon. The other copters are coming."

For a long moment, Zane didn't move. He lay there, and watched her back. He watched the way she held herself, so as not to jolt her arm, and cause anymore pain than was necessary for movement. Would she come back for him? Would she sacrifice him for the diamond and herself?

He could hear the other copters now, as they flew closer. She was right— they didn't have much time. Slowly, he got to his feet. He reached out, and touched her back.

"The diamond," he said quietly, "is in his mansion. The Tyrant will have guessed it's in the area, and that's probably where we will be taken. It's in the main meeting room, in the chandelier above the table. It's in the electric wires in the ceiling."

Valerie smiled. "That's a clever place to hide it. Even I wouldn't have chosen to look there. I think your employer is more clever than he looks."

"He is. He said people would assume he put it in an elaborately protected place— full of traps, and locks, and stupid things like that. But the diamond is protected enough there. You have to find away not to get crushed by the chandelier. You have to be careful not to get electrocuted; there's a lot of voltage in those wires. And, most of all, you have to get past the people in the room. It was used a lot. There's no way no one's going to notice a person who climbs out over the table and starts swinging the chandelier."

"There has to be a way." Valerie turned, and set her hands on his chest. "How did he tell you to get it?"

Zane winced, and stepped back. "Be careful. I still have those burns. He assumed there would be no one there. I'd get a ladder, unscrew it, and no one would hear the crash."

Valerie shook her head in frustration, and looked over her shoulder towards the field at the lights of the landing copters. There was too little time for anything. "I'll have to think of something later."

Zane stood there a moment, feeling like he had just lost— and he had. He'd played his last card, and now it didn't really matter whether or not it lived and died; at least not to the people who mattered.

"Stop that!" Valerie slapped him. "Don't just stand there! Hand me my gun, and get your own out!"

"I thought we were going to get captured," said Zane in confusion. "Why—"

"And who's going to believe that I wouldn't even put up a pretense of a fight? Come on! Wake up, and get me my gun! The last copter is landing now. Do think we can _afford_ to stand around and chat like this?" Valerie motioned to the bag on her shoulder, and waited.

Reluctantly, Zane untied it, and pulled out two guns. One for each of them. All the others were in their various holsters. "Are we going to shoot anyone, or just hold the guns?"

"You don't do anything unless I tell you to." Valerie played with the safety of her gun for a few seconds, and then sighted down the barrel. "Oh yes— and when we've been captured, you're going to play dumb. Tell them that I'm the only one who knows where the diamond is. I want to make The Tyrant uncomfortable with the Sun Ye On."

"But if I do, they'll kill me!"

Valerie laughed, and shook her head. "Oh no they won't. I'm going to tell them that you're the only one who knows where the diamond is. That is, until we need a change. Then, you keep right on saying the same thing, and I'll do what needs to be done."

Zane squirmed uncomfortably, and glanced back at the field. The last copter had just landed. "I don't suppose there're any complications?"

"Yes, but it doesn't matter. You won't be dealing with them."

"You mean, you'll be?"

"What else?" Valerie jumped slightly, to get a better look over the grass, and came down with a jolt, that pulled a whimper from her mouth.

Hastily, Zane caught hold of her. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she panted. "I just… jarred things more than I should have. But I'll be alright."

Zane grunted something at her. "You're _really_ in no condition to be doing any of this. I'd bet anything this is going to be the end of your career. You'll be too badly hurt to do anything else."

"If I am, will it matter?"

"No," he admitted grudgingly. "I suppose not. Not if you pull this off."

"That's just what I was thinking." Valerie pushed her way through the grass, ignoring Zane, as he sputtered at her to come back, and not be an idiot. It wasn't expected.

Valerie shoved her way out onto the open field, and was almost immediately found by a search light. She waited, good hand inside her jacket, very obviously resting on her gun, in case she needed to use it. She waited. They'd come and parley with her in a minute.

It was very quiet. Then, finally, the light was averted, and from the right, someone approached her.

Valerie waited without moving, careful not to focus too much on that one person, nor too little. Slowly, her blind spot from the light faded, and her eyes became accustom to the dark once again.

"I would like to avoid fighting," called the man. "May we talk?"

"We may."

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**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	19. Parely

**Sorry if you don't like diplomatic parleying. This chapter gets a little long. Please don't give up though, because of course, there are lulls in the action, but it's never far away. It will be back soon.**

**I'm so excited for my next story though! It's coming along beautifully, and will probably be out in September. I've decided to publish short stories and oneshots throughout the summer througha friend. Any requests?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Valerie waited in silence for the man to think of something to say. He had probably not expected that particular answer. It would seem like an odd one, after all the fight she'd put up. This man was not Russian though— or if he was, he hadn't been raised here. He had an American accent. It was comforting to hear, if even from an enemy.

"There are too many of us for you to fight and hope to win," he said finally. "We are aware, however, that you are capable of taking down a large number of our men before you are captured. Therefore, we would like to avoid a large tiff, if possible. You cannot hope to get away."

She snorted. "Oh… _yes_! And that's what you said before I escaped The Fortress. That's what you said before I escaped the train."

"Madam— please. You are injured badly. Though we are enemies, I admire your bravery. You have far surpassed us all. No one will think less of you to surrender gracefully."

"I didn't think so either." Valerie drew her gun out of her jacket, and began to play with it. "How many of you do you think I can kill before I go down?"

"We do not want you dead."

"And then why should I surrender, when I can kill as many of you as I want, and still escape with my life?" He came a little closer, and Valerie raised the gun. "Oh no. You stay where you are. I can hear you quite well from here, I assure you. There's no need for that."

"Madam, I represent a powerful man— a wise man. He has told me that he regrets the methods that he used in an effort to gain the information you hold. You are not the kind of woman to succumb to such low measures. He is prepared to bargain with you for the information."

Valerie laughed. "Do you not understand? Once I've surrendered to you, I'm in no position to bargain with him on my terms. He must know that. Is he here?"

"You are as clever as he said you were. Yes, he is here, and he is prepared to bargain with you now."

"Very well." Valerie slipped the gun back into its holster. "Let us see what he has to offer me."

The man turned, and trotted back in the direction he had come from, leaving her to muss over what she would ask for. As soon as he was gone, Valerie turned, and slid back into the grass to Zane. "This is even better than I hoped for. Once we've reached an agreement, do what you're told, unless you see me disobey in the same manner."

"You're going to get us killed!"

Valerie laughed. "Oh no, I'm not. You know they want us alive, Zane. You know they do. You know _he_ does." She stepped back out, and turned her attention towards the footsteps approaching her.

She could make out the shadows of seven men, the one in the middle slightly smaller than the rest. That would be The Tyrant. The men surrounding him were bodyguards, no doubt. What a coward.

Finally, a few feet from her, The Tyrant and his men materialized, and then stopped. He regarded her in silence for a few moments. "I underestimated you," he said at last.

"Don't feel bad. Most people do. I'm only a little girl, after all. What could I do?" It was consolation with a sting in it. Indeed she was only a little girl, but she had still managed to destroy The Fortress, and ruin this man's reputation as dangerous.

"Very well. I won't underestimate you again." He paused, running various offers through his head, in an effort to find the perfect one.

"You already have. I know what I want in exchange for the piece of information."

The Tyrant laughed indulgently. "You're right. You are not a child to be played with. Neither are you a foolish and near-sighted young adult to be led on with wild promises. You are an equal."

"An equal, perhaps, but not congruent." Valerie paused. "How much are the Sun Ye On offering you for me?"

Surprise flashed across The Tyrant's face. "You know— Never mind. Of course you would. I assume you've known about them for years, and played them out to make things more difficult for me. You still hold cards I haven't guessed, don't you?"

"I do, but you assumed wrong. I did not know they wanted me dead until two nights ago, when one of their men tried to kill me. Naturally, he failed. I too, hold some information that they would have. Or rather— would have me _not_ have." She smiled slightly, and examined the nails on her hand. They were caked with dirt and blood.

"You are an interesting woman."

"I suppose I am." Valerie sighed. "But enough. First prove to me that you will keep your word once we have decided on something, and then prove to me that we will not be killed once you have the information you seek."

He regarded her in surprise. "But I cannot!"

"Think carefully before you give me your answer. Now prove it to me. Begin with the easiest for you. If you truly cannot, then there is no point in our bargaining."

"No, I suppose not." He studied her thoughtfully. "If I were to break my word, I would lose what little respect I have left, after everything that's happened. On trust, I will let you speak with Rivers, and tell him what I have promised. I'm sure he'll make things public."

Valerie smiled. "You're a smarter man that you look. Now what would you like from me?"

"The information. I want to know where the diamond is located, and how to get it."

For a moment, Valerie pondered this, working out her own demands to accommodate his. "Very well. In return, I would like your word that neither of us will be tortured in any manner— whether mental, physical, or emotional— and that we shall be given food, water, rest, and medical attention. I also expect that we will be better housed and treated than before, if not less guarded."

"Better guarded," muttered The Tyrant.

Valerie smiled again. "The information will be released to you by one of us in seven days from the time at which we surrender to you, and neither of us shall be harmed or killed after or before that time. After you are informed of its location, we will be released."

The Tyrant pursed his lips, and shook his head. "That is hardly fair! What if you decide to attempt to leave again?"

"Should we attempt to leave the area assigned to us without permission, you may take all measures to stop us, except for death. Were we to be recaptured, we would expect the rules to apply once again. Were we not to be recaptured, the contract would then become null, since we could not complete our part."

"And what if you come back after you have been released?"

Valerie squinted at him, and finally said: "Once we have exited, if we return to any area within a mile of the diamond, the contract will be null. Does that please you?"

A smile stretched the man's thin lips. "Yes, actually. Yes, it pleases me."

Valerie held out her hand. "Then give me a phone, and I will talk with Rivers."

Slowly, The Tyrant drew a phone out of his pocket. He paused, considering things for a moment, and then tossed it to her.

Valerie snatched it out of the air, flicked it open, and quickly dialed his number. Time could not be wasted. She would have to be careful after this. _More_ careful. "Rivers?"

"Damn! Is that—"

"Yes, it's me. Shall I call an ambulance for you, or will you be alright?" Valerie shook her head in amusement.

"Where are you girl?" Rivers began to babble in his excitement. "When did you get out? Do you have the diamond? Do you have Zane? I saw what you did to The Fortress, and—"

"Actually, Rivers, I'm still in Russia, and I'm in the middle of bargaining with… The Tyrant, if you want to call him that." Valerie glanced at him to see how he liked that name. He very obviously did not, but she didn't care at the moment. "I have a deal with him."

Rivers snorted. "A _deal_? You have nerve, girl. Too much nerve. He'll never keep his promise."

"He will if everyone knows he made one."

"Oh. That's why you're calling me, isn't it?"

Valerie laughed, like an adult at a child's statement of the obvious. "Oh, brilliant deduction, Rivers! _Brilliant_!"

"Well?"

"In seven days, one of us is going to tell him where the diamond is, and then he's going to release us— alive. In the mean time, we get food, water, rest, and medical attention, which we both desperately need. If we attempt to get away, he can stop us with anything except death. If we come back within a mile of the diamond, after he let's us go, the contract's over. If we get away, the contract's over. Meaning he can kill us, basically." Valerie looked up at The Tyrant, who nodded his approval of her summary.

"You said you needed medical attention?" asked Rivers anxiously.

"Oh, stop worrying over my career, Rivers!" Valerie muttered a few choice words under her breath, irritably. "I still have one hand left, and that's good enough! I've done fine without my right!"

"Oh dear Holy Mother of God!" Rivers was screaming so loud, even The Tyrant and his bodyguards could hear. Valerie hastily pulled the phone away from her ear, before her eardrum burst. "You've lost a hand! You've lost a hand! Your _right_ hand! What are you going to do? What are you going to _do_? Your career is _ruined_! What—"

Valerie snapped the phone shut. There was no point in trying to reassure Rivers, or argue with him, or tell him anything else. "Very well then. He knows now."

The Tyrant's mouth was twitching into what was dangerously close to a smile. "Is he— always like that?"

"Always. But he was probably more worried about the insurance money he's going to have to pay me for the loss. That, and the money he could possibly lose if I can't perform as well." Valerie shook her head in annoyance. "It's ridiculous though. It doesn't matter which hand I use."

"As I can testify to."

Valerie tossed back the phone, and then stood there a moment, thinking.

"Are we agreed then?" asked The Tyrant.

Without anymore hesitation, Valerie nodded, and drew her gun. "Yes. We are." She dropped it before his bodyguards could get too worried, and then nodded back towards the grass. "Zane probably needs to be carried. He seems to have taken the brunt of the injuries."

The Tyrant stepped forwards, playing a flashlight over her. "And I suppose you only have a few nicks? What did you do to that hand and arm? You didn't cut it off, did you?"

Valerie pulled open her jacket, so he could see how it was bound across her. "It was in the way."

"I see. And what about that new injury?" He nodded to two of his men, who hurried past her into the grass where Zane was.

"Oh, that. That was from a piece of metal that hit me after the train blew up." Valerie neatly sidestepped the two of his bodyguards who had tried to catch hold of her. "That's not really necessary. I'll walk."

"Very well." He waved a hand at them, and glanced over at Zane, who looked extremely annoyed about being carried, but was not saying anything, because being carried was better than walking. "What did _he_ do? He doesn't look like he's in very good shape."

Valerie laughed. "Oh really? Does that surprise you, after all we've been doing, the past few days?"

"No," admitted The Tyrant.

Valerie fell into step between the two bodyguards who had tried to pick her up earlier, as The Tyrant began to walk towards one of the copters. "I don't suppose you have a medic with you?"

"We do, actually. I guessed you would need one."

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**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	20. A Brief Fight

**No guns or knives. The fight in this chapter is with fists, so not much blood there. I'm sorry if I give anyone the creeps by briefly describing her hands. It isn't very graphic though. Perhaps a broken jaw is an exaggeration with her hands in that condition, but please suspend belief.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.**

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Valerie walked through the men proudly, knowing they were all a little afraid of her. They watched her pass in silence, something that most men would not have done for a surrendered foe. 

She and Zane were taken with The Tyrant and his bodyguards to the biggest copter. Three of the guards went on with them, and the other three went to take charge of the men milling around outside.

"Please, sit down." The Tyrant motioned her courteously to a seat, and waved a rather squished looking man forward from the back of the copter. He was much too big for the cramped space of the copter. It wasn't that he was fat— he was just big. Big across, and big in height. He most definitely did not belong in here, and his face showed it.

"See her first, and then Zane. She's more serious, and he's more tired." He stepped aside, so that he could squeeze past, and glanced over at Zane, who had been set down on the opposite seat. "You don't look very happy. Is there something you need?"

Zane looked at him a moment. "I haven't eaten in several days. I'm hungry."

"Oh yes, of course." He turned to one of his bodyguards. "Find him something decent to eat. And something to drink as well."

The medic was trying to find the end of the bandages wound across Valerie's middle without much success. Zane had made a thorough tangle of things, and it wasn't going to be a neat job unwinding it.

Valerie watched his perplexed face for a few minutes, and then asked: "Do you have a knife?"

"But if I cut you, or if—"

Valerie leaned forward, and tugged his face down. "If you do, I don't think it'll matter. You couldn't make anything much worse."

Hesitantly, he pulled a small knife out of his pocket and set it against the bandages. Then, he stepped back. "No, I don't think—"

Valerie grasped the flat edge of the blade between two fingers, and pulled it out of his hand. "Let me do it. I won't cut myself, and I'm not going to get sick over it."

"I do _not_ get sick over the sight of blood!" said the medic indignantly.

She murmured something in reply, and concentrated on guiding the knife through the bandages, and not the skin. She probably shouldn't lose anymore blood in the condition she was in.

Finally, the bandages fell apart, and her hand tumbled out at an odd angle. It was even worse than it had been before, but perhaps that was because of the good lighting. The medic blanched, and turned his face away. "What did you _do_?"

One of the bodyguards leaned over him to get a good look, and hastily pulled away with a shudder.

Valerie smiled, and nodded politely at The Tyrant. "Ask him."

The Tyrant looked uncomfortable. "I put her in the crusher."

"All the way?"

"Well— it didn't seem to bother her, and she wouldn't say anything, and it _still_ doesn't seem to bother her." He squirmed, and tried not to look at the hand in question.

Valerie's smile showed a few teeth. "I'm a beautiful liar, dear. Do you have any pain killer?"

The medic shoved a handful of small pink tablets at her. Valerie took them all, and then looked back up at him. "Do you happen to have any local anesthetic with you?"

"Why?"

"Do you?"

He shook his head, and hastily looked away again, with a hard swallow.

Valerie sighed. "You're not much use as a medic, are you? Go work on Zane. His injuries aren't as bad as mine. I'll take care of myself, I suppose."

Glad for an excuse to turn his back on her, he squeezed around in the isle, and began to examine Zane's wounds, which, as Madam had said, were much less gruesome.

Valerie nodded to one of the bodyguards. "You— come and hold my arm up for me."

The guard looked questioningly at The Tyrant, who nodded, and then sat down on the seat in front of her, and gingerly took hold of her arm at the elbow, and held it up. "Does it hurt?"

"Does it look like it hurts?" Valerie studied her hand a moment, and then began to trim dangling pieces of skin off with the knife. "Hold my arm steady! If you keep shaking it like that, I'm going to have a big, bloody gash right across my wrist."

"Sorry." The guard tightened his grip, and hastily looked away. "How much pain killer have you taken?"

"What he gave me was the first I've had. And I'm glad for it, I assure you. What would be more welcome, however, would be an amputation, or sleep. Neither of which, I'm likely to get."

"Why aren't you crying?"

Valerie frowned at him. "Don't stereotype about women. We don't cry about every small cut and scrape. Granted, most women would cry if their hand was like this, but I can hit and shoot just as well with the other one, so it's not such a big deal to me."

"But doesn't it hurt?" He was now staring at her, utterly forgetting about the gore on her hand.

"Of course it does! But do tears make things better?" Valerie set her teeth, and pushed a broken pinky bone into place. "Tears fix nothing, and I learned that a long time ago. They bring no one back from the dead, they don't undo mistakes, and they don't heal hurts. Basically, tears are pointless, and childish. I have no need for them."

He swallowed, and turned his head away again. "How do you ignore it though?"

"I don't ignore it. I deal with it. Now is there any alcohol around?"

The medic, who had just finished dousing Zane's leg in it, pushed a bottle back to her. "What's this cut from?"

Zane grunted. "A helicopter blade."

The Tyrant looked up at this. "Oh yes— I forgot to ask about the helicopter. What in the world did you do with it? They looked all over for it, and still no one's found it."

"I dumped in a lake." Zane gritted his teeth, and watched the medic bandage up his leg. When they got back, he'd get stitches, no doubt. "I didn't swim out from under it quite fast enough. The blade nicked me."

"Was that _her_ idea?"

Zane pulled off his shirt for the medic, and held out his arm, slumping back in the seat. "Actually, _everything_'s her idea. She always has the answers." He winced, as more alcohol stung the nick on his arm.

"I thought I told the men not to shoot at you!" The Tyrant looked annoyed, more at being disobeyed than that Zane was hurt.

Valerie glanced over at him, pausing, in her methodic cleaning. "Two nights ago, one of the Sun Ye On's assassins almost killed me. I'd just gotten away from one of your men, and the police, so I let my guard down. Zane pushed me out of the way."

"So you're human after all," laughed The Tyrant. He nodded to Zane. "She told me about you two."

Zane froze, looking uncomfortable, partly because he suspected this was the proper reaction, partly because he wasn't sure what was being implied, and partly because he felt that way..

"Is she attractive, when she's not trying to kill you?" The bodyguard strapping himself into the pilot's seat spoke for the first time, giving Zane a teasing grin.

Zane flushed slightly, suddenly remembering. Oh. That.

"Hey!" Valerie glared at him. "I'll refrain from hitting _him_," here she motioned to The Tyrant, "because he's my benefactor at the moment. _You_ however, are not. I have no qualms about beating you up, in this state, or not. I can. So keep your mouth shut."

"I doubt it." He grinned at her. "You've been dealing with untrained personnel, so far, Madam. I am the best there is, you know. I doubt you could beat me fully healed and rested. You've had blind beginner's luck so far, but it never keeps."

There was a sudden silence. Even The Tyrant looked uncomfortable at such an open challenge.

Slowly, Valerie got out of her seat. "You make a mistake, in assuming I'm a beginner. I may only be eighteen, but I've been in the business for years. A long time. I never count on luck. Luck will always turn bad on you. I know."

With a click, he released his safety belt.

The Tyrant hastily stepped forward to intervene, scowling at his bodyguard for putting him in such an uncomfortable situation.

Valerie put her hand out. "Stop. This will be taken separately. It won't affect anything else. If I am beaten, then I'll have deserved it for boasting. I hope you don't mind if your guard's injured?"

"If he is," mumbled The Tyrant, "it's his own fault."

Valerie slipped past the guard who'd been aiding her in fixing up her hand, and stood there, looking at her opponent, bloody hands and arms hanging at her side. "Do you prefer to fight in here, or outside?"

"It won't be necessary to get out," he sneered. "It'll take longer than settling things right now."

Valerie nodded slightly, and relaxed, standing in no apparent position, and watching him from half-closed eyes, as though she were studying him.

Suddenly, his fist shot out straight, at her midsection.

Just as suddenly, Valerie was not there, but standing slightly to the side, and he mashed his fingers against the metal supportive pole.

Again, he tried to hit her, and again he hit the pole. This time, when she dodged, he swung his other fist at her, but he hit the pole again.

In the back of the copter, Zane snickered: just loud enough for everyone to hear, and just soft enough to sound polite. Madam would utterly pulverize the ego of this pompous upstart.

Valerie flowed from here to there like water, conscious of every part of his body, and where they were in relationship to her. Over and over he hit the pole, or the side of the copter, or a seat, and he grew more and more angry, wasting his breath to shout insults at her.

"It is not wise to become angry," murmured Valerie, when at last he had exhausted himself, and was covered with bruises and cuts he'd given himself.

He grunted something, and glared at her. "So you could dodge a storm of bullets! You're a coward! You don't know anything about fighting! You're a weak woman!"

For an instant, Valerie smiled. Then, she raised her mangled hand. "You call me a coward. Yet, when have I cried in pain over the injuries I've received? You say I don't know anything about fighting, and yet, I'm am skilled enough that I no longer have to fight like you. You say I am weak. What do you think I can do to you with this hand?"

"Nothing," he muttered after a moment of hesitation.

So quickly that he had no time to respond, Valerie's hand shot into his face, and met his jaw.

He stared at her for a moment, face at a funny angle.

"I believe your jaw is broken."

With a choke of pain, he slumped back in his seat, and passed out. Valerie shook her head at him, and looked at her hand, which she was beginning to think would have to be amputated. "He was a fool. He did not understand. He had no control over his body, and he has no control over pain. You ought not to have employed him."

She turned around, and looked at Zane a moment. "You laugh Zane. You're no less guilty, and you _know_ what I can do to you."

He grinned crookedly at her. "Yes, but I also know what you won't do to me."

Valerie felt a smile fighting it's way to her face. "You get smarter everyday, don't you? This game is glorious, isn't it?" She sat down, looking at The Tyrant. "Actually, it's the first interesting thing I've done in a long time. I'm looking forward to winning."

"Are you?" For a moment, she thought she saw triumph in his eyes. "So am I."

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**Thanks to all the anonymous reviewers. Nice of you to pop in every now and then. One question to (me): Um, this is obviously a stressful story. I mean, a running for your life kind of story. How on _earth_ does it make you feel better after a hard day? Because you can compare it to yourself and laugh because if things are bad, at least they're not _that_ bad? Or are they? (No one turn me in, please. No reply for anonymous reviewers, you know) **

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	21. A Level Playing Field

**Sorry! We had three feet of snow over the weekend, and everything was shut down, because it's the first snow we've had this year (besides powder), and no one was ready, and the wind was terrible, and the roads were icy, and things were truly ridiculous... So yeah.**

**This is a little slow, but the romance is coming up in the next few chapters. Patience is a virtue, remember that. It's not very near the end yet either. :) Hugs, kisses, love, etc.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Valerie did not like the way he smiled. He had an idea. Something that made him feel much more confident than he should have been. It wouldn't be smart to let him know she was suspicious though, so she laughed, and curled up in her corner of the seat. "It suppose it's nice to have a dream."

The medic twisted himself around in the isle, grunting something about how cramped the copters were. "You ought to let me bandage up your hand now, before anymore damage is done."

She waved him away. "No. They need air. I need sleep. Let things be, for now."

"But—"

Behind him, The Tyrant snapped his fingers impatiently. "Why are you playing this game with her, idiot? Did you see what she did a moment ago? Don't make her angry! I'm sure she knows best. Let her handle things in her own way, will you?"

"Sorry sir."

"Don't give your apology to me, give it to her!"

Flushing at the number of mistakes he was making, the medic turned back, and murmured his apology.

Valerie nodded her annoyance and forgiveness, and shut her eyes. "I'll wake up in two and a half hours. Until then."

After a moment of silence, the medic whispered: "How does she know exactly when she'll wake up?"

There was a crack that sounded suspiciously like an open handed slap from The Tyrant (a little girlish), and in a tone that said just how much he loathed stupidity, he said, "She's probably trained herself to wake up after that time for _years_."

"Not at that particular time." Zane stirred from his corner. "She can wake up at any time she names, if she really wants to. She's got an almost perfect internal clock."

"Oh," whispered the medic.

There was a rustle, a thud, and the click of a seat belt, as someone else moved into the pilot's seat. "Right. Everyone sit down, and buckle in, if you can. If not, don't get overly excited. I'll try to keep things smooth, but there's some turbulence to the north."

"Storms?" asked Zane sleepily.

"Rain along the coast, and snow when we reach the peninsula." There was a comfortable creak of gears and machinery, and the engine began to throb a steady drone.

Slowly, they lifted into the air, and all around, could be heard the sound of the other copters. It was amazing, thought Zane, watching things from half closed eyes, that there weren't any political complications— the government didn't interfere, or anything, and they might as well have been flying an illegal battle squadron across Russia.

When Valerie woke up, two and half hours later exactly, everyone was asleep, except for the two bodyguards who were uninjured, one of whom was piloting.

For a moment, she was tempted to push her luck, and attempt an escape— perhaps jump out of the copter, or hijack it— or something ridiculous like that. But that quickly passed. They were surrounded by copters full of The Tyrant's men. That nixed the hijacking. Jumping wouldn't have been that bad, except for the fact that her body wouldn't be able to handle even a paper cut at the moment.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes, and stretched, careful not to knock her hand against anything.

The bodyguard sitting between her and The Tyrant, jerked around, staring first at her, and then at his watch. "That's two and a half hours _exactly_! How'd you do it?"

"Practice," mumbled Valerie, and curled back up. "Is there a heater in this thing?"

The bodyguard piloting glanced back at her in the mirror. "Sorry," he said apologetically. "But I'm sure you can take _his_ jacket. He's still out cold, and when he wakes up, I don't think he'll be in the mood to argue with you. You were right. He is stupid. He really shouldn't have been hired in the first place. Too much pride and macho man."

Valerie smiled slightly, and leaned over to look at the man she had put out of action. The medic had swathed his head in a most bizarre white turban, and he look ridiculous, at the least, lying on the floor, drooling on himself. "Do you mind taking it off him for me?" She sat up, waving her hand at the guard in the seat in front of her. "He's heavy, and I don't think…"

"Sure." He leaned over, and tugged it off him, hardly seeming to notice the way he was banging the man's head around.

"Do you all come from English speaking countries, or—"

"Job requirement." With a grunt, he pulled the jacket out from under him, and tossed it into her lap. "I was checking the sites about half an hour ago, and they've got pictures of the damage out all over. Your agent's saying you're sixteen. Are you really?"

Valerie wrapped the jacket around her, and drew her feet into it, so that just her head was peeping out at the top. "Do I look like sixteen?"

"Fourteen."

"I'm flattered. Actually," she shut her eyes, "I'm eighteen, almost nineteen, but I don't suppose it really matters. It's a good publicity ploy. That, and he'll make more money in the betting."

"You sound as though you're used to it."

"I am." Valerie yawned, and pulled the jacket tighter. "I get fifty percent of the bets, plus the cut out of the total fee, plus insurance, cost of equipment and travel, etc.; Rivers is a very generous agent. If I were jailed, I'm positive he'd hire someone to break me out."

"For the money?"

"Of course! What else for?" Valerie was slightly annoyed by the childishness of this question. Of _course_ it was for the money! No one did anything, anymore, for nothing.

"You're very good for a ch— sorry. I mean someone so young. How long have you been working?"

Valerie looked out the window. "Since my fifteenth birthday. I'd rather not talk about it though, if you don't mind. It's a bit of a touchy subject."

"Sure. Why's the Sun Ye On after you?"

A smile twitched her lips for an instant, and then she shook her head. "Because I have some information. It's a whole big mess— a political thing, you see, and if it were disclosed to the wrong person, it would not be a good thing for quite a few people higher-up."

"So, ah, he said— there's a rumor out that you were the one who killed Kusac Trabar. Did you really, or is that just publicity ploy of Rivers?"

"I really killed him, believe it or not. My first job. I wouldn't stop harassing him, and to get rid of me, he told me I could have the job if I bagged Trabar first. I did." Valerie glanced up, as Zane stirred and blinked his eyes at her across the aisle. "Did you get a good sleep?"

Zane groaned, stretched, and leaned back again. "Not enough. I'm going back to sleep if I can. How about you?"

"Don't need it." Valerie met his eyes a moment, communicating that it was fine to go back to sleep. There wasn't much he was going to miss. Besides, it would probably be a while.

Zane settled comfortably, and shut his eyes, quickly falling asleep again. Valerie watched him until he was asleep, and then gave her attention back to the bodyguard.

"Er… I don't quite know how to say this," he began, and then stopped. "Well, are you planning on escaping?"

Valerie laughed. "Actually, I was thinking about it just a few minutes ago. I decided against it however. I have a better plan. I don't want to ruin it. Besides, I don't think this body can take anymore."

"What do you mean?"

She stood, painfully stiff, and moved to the front of the copter to stand by the door. "I was thinking of jumping."

Both bodyguards gave her their undivided attention. "_Jumping_?" asked the one at the controls. "But we don't have any parachutes!"

"Exactly. So naturally, that would be the least protected escape route, wouldn't it?" Valerie reached up to touch the emergency escape lever, tracing the letters engraved on it. "I don't have a parachute either, which I'm sure you noticed in our packs. However, a parachute is not always necessary when departing from a helicopter."

"What is?"

Valerie shook her head reprovingly at them. "What if I changed my mind later? Why should I tell you?"

"Why would you jump after you told us what you were going to do?"

"Would I tell you what I was going to do?"

"No."

"Then why would you be waiting for it?" Valerie set her injured hand on the lever, looking at twisted, broken pieces of a hand that wouldn't really ever be there after this. "No one would try to _fight_ their way out of The Fortress, so why would you be waiting for it? That is the loophole, you see. You must by unexpected. Always."

"Then why are you telling us this?" asked the pilot in frustration.

"Do you expect me to?"

Her point had been made. This was accepted in silence, and the copter flew on, disregarding the light rain that had begun to fall.

It was getting a little lighter, but already, she could tell it was going to be a day in which the clouds were heavy, and there wasn't much light, and the rain fell perpetually. Dreary. Cold. Wet. Valerie sat back down, and shut her eyes, controlling her breathing. Now was a good time to concentrate.

Perhaps two hours later, the helicopter began to drop, and Valerie slowly pulled herself back into the present. Zane was awake again, though drowsy, and cheerfully discussing a new rifle with the bodyguard sitting in front of her. The pilot was talking to someone on the radio, and The Tyrant was taking this as an opportunity to lecture his fallen guard about overblown pride.

She opened her eyes, and leaned over to look out the window. A good look at the area from above would probably be helpful later. It was quite forested, and very hilly.

"Studying the area?" asked The Tyrant, suddenly rising, and turning around to look at her.

"Of course. It would be stupid not to. Did you know, I've seen at least eleven of the Sun Ye On wandering around below us, and two of them have gotten through your men's line? I would assume they are going to be waiting to assassinate me, just as soon as I make an appearance."

"How can you see that from up here?" The Tyrant stared at her.

Valerie turned her head very slowly, and met his gaze. "I see everything." She kept staring until he looked away.

"Sir?"

"What?" The Tyrant spun around, looking exceedingly grouchy.

"Should I relay what she said to the men on the ground? Just in case?" His hand hovered over the button.

The Tyrant shook his head angrily. "No! She's just making trouble for me! There's no way the Sun Ye On could have gotten their men through my line, and you know it!"

Valerie shrugged expressively. "Very well then. I will take my own precautions." She got to her feet, and walked over to sit down beside Zane, resting her head on his shoulder.

Zane hesitated, and then bent his head so he could whisper into her ear. "Is there something you want me to do about it? Do you have a plan, or was there something else?"

"Well…" Valerie stopped, and finally pulled down his head farther. "Do you think I should let myself get shot? You know— to level the playing field, and make it more fun?"

"To _what_?" Zane said it so loudly, that everyone who'd been making an effort not to look, in order to be polite, turned to look anyways. "_Hell_ no! To level the playing field? Are you kidding? _Fun_? Do you not understand the concept of reasonableness?"

"No," said Valerie decidedly. "I do not."

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**Anyway, I'm almost 100 pages into my next story (A/H), and very cheerful about that.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	22. Dying Request

**Hmm… The title was probably worrying, and the ending is probably worrying, and the content is probably worrying, but… You'll have to wait and see if anyone dies next chapter. I like cliffies.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Zane took Valerie by the shoulders, and shook her. "No. That's going too far! You can't do that! Things are bad enough as it is."

"Are you telling me what to do, Zane?"

"Yes," said Zane, tight-lipped.

For a very long moment, he was certain she was going to punch him. Then, to his utmost relief, she dropped her head. "Very well. Your better judgment then. It is, after all, your area of expertise. We'd better decide on something different though. Before we land, preferably."

The Tyrant leaned over the seat. "There is no _need_ for precautions, Madam! Even if they are in the area, the landing pad is highly guarded! There are dangers in my own position, in case you haven't noticed."

"You obviously don't take enough precautions. I'm possibly the most dangerous woman on the planet, and I'm in easy reach of numerous weapons. If I wanted to, I could kill you." Valerie leaned over Zane to look out the window again. "I trust only myself, and perhaps Zane, when I know he has no alternative. I'll do it my way."

He snorted something, and turned around, shaking his head. "I'm going to laugh later."

Valerie pulled down Zane's head again, and turned her back to the others. "I'm going to snag one of their guns as I jump out, and shoot the nearest one. That should throw them off balance. I want you to come out as I shoot, and cover me, alright?"

"Do you know where they are?" Zane frowned slightly, and shook his head. This was passed ridiculous.

"There's only one side that doesn't have building coverage. See all those trees?" Valerie pointed out the window towards the sprawl of buildings and the crowd. "Haven't you been here before?"

Zane shook his head. "No. He hired me shortly after he left the country. I knew about the layout, but not the land around it."

"I assume you can work with that, though?"

"Oh yes." His smile showed teeth. "You have yours, and I have mine. Each to their own."

Valerie stood up, and examined her hands as she moved towards the front of the copter. "I think I'm going to either have surgery on these, or get them amputated. There's almost nothing left of them except fragments. It's a wonder I can still move my finger pieces."

The medic squirmed, and shook his head. "I really doubt surgery will fix something that bad. I don't think _anything_ will."

Valerie shrugged. "So long as I can still work, I don't think it will be a problem. And if there is a way to fix it, my insurance will definitely cover it. Rivers will be anxious to keep my business going strong. I've been pulling in almost a third of his profits. Even more after this."

The Tyrant glared at her. "You talk like you know you'll get out of this alive, with the diamond, and with Zane."

"Oh, I will." Her smiled showed teeth. "I know I will."

There was an uncomfortable silence, that was finally broken by a jolt as the helicopter settled on the pad. All around them, men were waiting to see The Tyrant in safely, and perhaps, to see the little girl who had smashed the criminal world to bits a few days ago.

Valerie glanced over her shoulder at Zane who had moved to the front of the copter with her, and was pressed firmly against her back. He nodded just barely to her, and shifted to the side so that the pilot could open the door.

As he passed, Valerie's hand caught hold of his gun, and she yanked it out of the holster as the door opened. Without pausing, she continued her forward momentum, shooting out of the copter and across the open space.

Almost together, six shots rang out.

Valerie gave her body a violent twist, and spun as she fell, sending a spray of bullets back at the sources of the shots. Just before she hit the pavement, Zane dove, catching her up underneath him, and effectively shielding her from the open side of the pad.

There was a scream or two from the would-be assassins, and plenty of shouting from the men as they ran to catch the intruders, four of whom were wounded, one who had a singed head, and one who was dead. It took a long while before they calmed down. Valerie and Zane were also pounced upon, as they were deemed dangerous enough without a weapon, whether it was empty or not.

Valerie was rather roughly relieved of the gun, and jerked to her feet beside Zane as The Tyrant passed.

He stopped, and looked at her for a long moment. "Are you going to laugh?" he asked finally.

Slowly, Valerie shook her head, and leaned back against Zane, who hesitated a moment before wrapping an arm around her to hold her upright. "No. I'm much too tired. I'm losing control of my pain too. Can we please hurry?"

The Tyrant nodded agreeably, and motioned for them to follow him as he turned towards the manor. "Certainly. You can shower and get some sleep. There wouldn't happen to be anymore Sun Ye On lurking around in the area, waiting to kill you?"

Valerie yawned, and after a moment of muttering under her breath at Zane, allowed him to pick her up and carry her. "Thanks. I didn't see any from the plane, but that doesn't mean there aren't any. They're pretty desperate to kill me, you know, and they've got enough men to sacrifice quite a number before they realize it's useless."

"Do you mind a room together?"

Underneath her head, Valerie felt Zane's muscles tighten. She glanced up, meeting his eye for a moment. He looked a little unsure, but it was probably due to the fact that he didn't know how she would respond to news like that. "Not at all. It's very kind of you. You do realize that we'll have much more time to plan things that way?"

The Tyrant rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you've already made arrangements, just in case I didn't bunk you together."

Valerie shook her head. "No, actually. I was certain you would. However, even if you didn't, it wouldn't matter, because though it's nice to have Zane, I don't necessarily need him to get loose. I have multiple options. If I didn't, I wouldn't have agreed to this whole thing."

"I also have options you aren't aware of," snapped The Tyrant, though he looked a little uncertain.

It took only a moment for Valerie to examine him. She met his eyes, and then gave him a slight smile. "Do you? That's nice. I still think you're underestimating me."

As they entered the main entryway, there was a clatter, and one of the bodyguards who'd taken command of the men earlier came racing down the marble stairs to their right. "Sir! There's someone on the phone for you! It can't wait! Very important!"

"Oh!" The Tyrant hesitated a moment, then wheeled around, and waved to the two bodyguards. "Take them to their room, and all of that."

Valerie lifted her head from Zane's shoulder with a smile. "Oh yes— one more thing. The Sun Ye On are willing to pay at least three billion yen for me, Tyrant. I'd ask for twenty-five and take no less than ten billion. Be sure to tell him hello for me. Tell him I know more than he thinks, and tell him I got a really good offer last year. Tell him it's a shame that his actions will confirm the suspicions of the CIA."

The Tyrant stared at her. "But how—" He broke off impatiently and turned around, shaking his head. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Think carefully before sending me. I won't come back alive, though I probably won't come back dead either. Only one of us knows where it is, and it would be a shame to discover it was me, once I was gone. It would be a bigger shame to miss all that money and the goodwill of the Sun Ye On if I didn't know. Think carefully."

He turned, and stormed up the stairs, muttering furiously under his breath the whole way.

One of his bodyguards turned to look at her as soon as he was around the corner. "How did you know? And who's him?"

Valerie settled against Zane again, careful not to rub against his burns. "It was a good guess. I like to take chances. I like to do ridiculous things. He is the Sun Ye On representative on the phone. Possibly their leader. I'd like to kill him if I can, and maybe I will."

"But why?"

Slowly, Valerie pushed herself up in Zane's arms, turning to look him in the eye. He took a half-step backwards, feeling as though she were about to attack him. "He and I are the only persons left alive who know why, I think. I'll keep it that way."

"Sorry." The bodyguard ducked his head, and turned, motioning for them to follow. "Your room is this way."

Zane followed him across the house towards the back basement stairs, mentally following the blueprint of the house in his head. Madam might want to know something later on, if she changed her mind. He might want to know something later if she changed her mind about coming back for him and he had to get out himself.

She lay in his arms, limp. She couldn't weigh over one hundred pounds. It was amazing that she was so strong, even ignoring her age. Her hands dangled uselessly, and again, he wondered how she dealt with such an overwhelming pain.

The back basement was a honeycomb of rooms and hallways, and the bodyguard paused at several intersections to get his bearings. Finally though, they came out into a large open room. In the very middle was what looked like an enormous concrete pillar with space shuttle lock doors. Valerie lifted her head, looking it over in interest.

"A bomb shelter?" Zane already knew it was, but he asked anyway.

For a moment, the bodyguard just looked at him. It _was_ pretty obvious, after all. Then he nodded.

In silence, he typed in a long code. The doors unfolded silently, and he motioned them in. "Your meals will be brought to your at eight, noon, and six. If you would like to speak to anyone about something you need, you may make a request at that time. Later on we'll fly a better doctor in."

Valerie nodded. "Yes, alright. Thank you, and goodbye."

The doors slid shut behind them as Zane took another step into the room, and they were left alone. "How many cameras are there?"

"Nine," mumbled Valerie. "Two recording devices too, it looks like. I need a bath." She dropped her head back against Zane's chest with a thud, and shut her eyes. "I'm too tired though."

Gently, Zane lowered her to her feet. "So which one? Bed or bath?"

Valerie roused herself with difficulty. "I should probably make myself take the bath. Did he bother providing any extra clothes? I think I've ruined these, if you couldn't tell already."

Zane nodded across the room. "There's the closet anyway. It leads into the bathroom."

"Thanks." Valerie yawned. "I'm taking a bath, and sleeping. We've got time to talk later. Even if they do concluding the bargaining today, which I doubt they will, he'll wait one or two more days to make sure nothing happens." She tottered across the room to the closet, and shut the door behind her.

With a sigh, Zane threw himself down across the bed. He was a mess too, but at the moment he didn't care. It seemed unlikely that he would get out of this alive, no matter how good Madam was. Saving him wasn't a first priority to begin with. Besides, he would just be in the way when she was trying to get out of Russia in one piece.

Maybe he should just ask her to kill him. She probably still could, injured as she was. Death was a preferable alternative to accidentally telling something when they figured out what she'd done.

The closet door opened, and she slipped back into the room, hair wet, eyes half closed, shoulders bent. She hardly looked like the child she was. No— she wasn't a child. She hardly looked like the child she should be.

Zane pushed himself up on an elbow. "I have something to ask you."

"What?" She dropped her robe over the bed post, and slid under the covers in her thin silk pajamas. "You need a shower, Zane. There are clothes in the closet. You're filthy."

"Thank you." He hesitated a moment, and then leaned over, pressing his face into her wet hair. It smelled like vanilla. "I need you to kill me."

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**Oh the evilness of me... No?**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	23. Small Disagreements

**I decided, when I got to this chapter, that having Zane be a complete obedient whimp is ridiculous, and there's no reason Valerie should like him if he is, so he comes out a little more in this chapter. He's much better when asserts himself, in my personal opinion. I like their spat. It rather happened by accident. I mean, I didn't intend to have them fight, but they insisted on it. **

**Anyway, I now am over 200 reviews, which in my opinion is pretty good for the AF fandom. Agi of course... She'll get half a million reviews. Anyway, I'm flattered, though confused as to the sudden appearance of so many random reviewers. Like- people who have never reviewed before are suddenly reviewing... very confusing. Oh well. Thanks.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Valerie looked at him for an instant. "Go shower."

With a sigh, Zane slid off the bed, and walked into the next room. Except for that one look— in which she had studied him— it was like she hadn't heard him at all.

It was odd. On the train, she'd shot the porter quickly and professionally. It had hardly bothered her at all. But when she'd started to strangle him when they first met, she'd stopped. It wasn't like they'd had a previous connection. She would have been putting him out of his misery in the end, and he hadn't fought her off, even though he understood what she was doing.

He shook his head, and began undressing. Perhaps he shouldn't try to understand her.

When he came out half an hour later, she was fast asleep, curled up in a tight ball under the covers. He wondered idly, as he got under the covers beside her and turned out the lights, just how far she was going to take their supposed relationship. He wondered how she was going to get the diamond.

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Valerie jerked awake at a slight hissing noise, and sat straight up, reaching automatically for a weapon she didn't have.

"Like I told you," chuckled The Tyrant to a short man beside him, as he stepped into the room and flicked on the lights, "she has excellent reflexes, subconscious and conscious. She's probably the most dangerous woman on the planet."

"I am." Valerie fell back beside Zane, who had woken up just enough to make sure nothing was wrong before slipping his arm around her waist and falling back asleep. "Are you a doctor?"

"Yes, I am." The short man approached the bed with respectful caution. "I'm Doctor Hinesburg. American. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, I suppose, though I don't like doctors. If you can do _anything_ for my hands you'll be certain to receive a very large sum in a few months."

The Tyrant tsked at her. "You still think you can get out, don't you?"

"Of course. I'm very confident in my abilities." Valerie held out her considerably less injured arm for the doctor to examine. "You didn't happen to bring any food with you, did you? Neither of us have eaten anything for several days now."

Zane mumbled his agreement from beside her, and pulled her closer to him, resting his head on her back.

"In a few minutes. Someone's bringing it."

"I can't believe…" Dr. Hinesburg swallowed and shook his head. "How did this happen?"

"A very big explosion."

Slowly, almost afraid to look, he picked up her other hand, and began to unwrap the mass of bandages that almost completely obscured the generic hand shape. "What happened to this hand?"

"It was completely crushed, ripped, broken, and otherwise mauled." Valerie winced slightly as he finished taking off the last of the bandages, and set her hand down on the covers. "If you don't like all the blood and gore, I'm sorry, but it wasn't my option."

Dr. Hinesburg glanced back over his shoulder at The Tyrant for a moment. "I— I think that I'm either going to have to amputate it, or do enormous reconstructive surgery, and I'm not sure that it'll work. Best scenario you can move your wrist, and no part of your hand disappears. I don't think your fingers will ever work again."

"Why shouldn't they?"

Carefully, he picked up her hand again, and examine her mashed fingers. "There's no way to completely repair something so badly injured."

Valerie wriggled her fingers expertly, causing several unpleasant popping and cracking noises. "Why not? They work alright now. I mean— better than could be expected."

"You can move them?" he asked in surprise.

"Of course!"

After a few minutes of more thorough reexamination, he nodded. "If you don't do them anymore injury, I think I'll be able to fix them. You're really lucky though. I don't see how you're still able to…"

"I'm special." Valerie waited patiently for him to re-bandage her hands, and then dropped back. "Thank you for seeing me. When are you hoping to do the surgery?"

The Tyrant rose from a chair. "I think we could do it in one or two days. What do you think, Hinesburg? I can have a few other doctors flown up here by then, and get you a top lab."

"Err, yes. That sounds all right." He nodded uncertainly, and turned to follow The Tyrant out of the room. "Move those hands as little as possible, and whatever you do, don't use them!"

Zane laughed quietly in her ear. "I think he's going to be disappointed." He flipped the pillow, and pulled her closer to him. "Even if you weren't going to do anything, you wouldn't lie around like that."

"How do you know?" Valerie looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and then rolled over to face him. "I'm a good child. Most of the time."

"Seldom is a better word."

She grinned at him, and shook her head. "I'll try to obey at least. I really don't want to lose my hands so soon into my career. I mean— regardless, I'll be legend, but I'd like to be a whole legend."

Zane reached over and turned out the lights again. "Yes. Well, will you? Before you leave?"

"I can't use my hands." Valerie tensed slightly, and began to pull away.

"No," he pulled her back towards him. "Don't do that! Listen to me. I know you can. There are other ways, Madam. You know it. I know it. All I want is an answer."

Valerie rolled over, giving him her back. "Tell me why."

"You know why. Once you've upset things again… I don't want to say anything." Zane ran idle fingers through her hair, twisting it around his hands. "I know I'm not your prime concern."

Valerie elbowed him. "You don't trust me? Didn't I promise you?"

"I trust you, but I don't want to hinder you. It would be better for both of us in the end, and you know it."

"Do you know how much it would hurt?"

"Why? It wasn't so bad before." Zane pulled the covers up to her chin, and wrapped his arms around her, pushing his face into her hair.

Valerie sat up. "Don't Zane. You listen to _me_ now! It would be slow, it would be painful, and it isn't guaranteed to work. Besides— it's a very obvious thing. You could get a lot of internal damage. Possibly a broken neck, which is still no guarantee, in the end."

"You're sure there's no other way?"

"Yes."

Zane let his arms fall down from around her waist. "I'd do it. Think about it while we wait."

The doors hissed again, and Valerie turned as they opened, and one of The Tyrant's bodyguards stepped inside, turning on the lights as he did so. "You're hungry? Breakfast."

Motioning for him to set the tray on the dresser, Valerie turned back to Zane, and studied him a moment. "You think about it too." She nodded her thanks as the bodyguard went out, and pulled the tray onto her lap. "Eat slowly, and don't stuff your face."

Zane gulped down a cup of coffee, and rolled his eyes at her over the rim. "Yes _mother_."

Valerie looked away quickly, and set her cup down. "You eat. I'm not that hungry."

"What?"

"Nothing." She shook her head and pressed her lips together. "Never mind, Zane. It's not your problem. I'll be fine, I'm just not that hungry right now. I'll eat later."

"No." Zane sat up beside her, suddenly angry. "You stop this! This is ridiculous, Madam! Pick something up and eat it! I don't know what it was, but I apologize, and there is no reason on earth that you should not eat! You haven't eaten in _days_!"

Valerie shoved the tray at him, pushed back the covers, and swung herself off the bed, heading towards the closet door. "So make me!"

There was a bang as Zane slammed the tray down on the dresser. "Madam!" He swore softly, and rose, catching hold of her, and slamming her heavily into the wall. "You _will_ eat something, if I _do_ have to shovel it down your dainty little throat, do you understand me?"

Valerie pushed him away. "Don't speak to me like that, Zane! I _will _hurt you."

For a moment, he locked eyes with her. Then he shook his head with a grim smile. "Oh no you won't. I know you won't, Madam. I think you know you won't too."

"Make me," muttered Valerie, and turned to go into the closet.

Before she could respond, and almost before she saw it, Zane's fist smashed into the side of her head, knocking her back against the wall. "Get over on the bed and eat something!"

Valerie stared at him in shock, head throbbing from the force of his blow. She could feel a slight trickle of blood run down her chin from a cut he had reopened on her cheek. Was she really that weak now, or was he really that strong, and had just allowed her to think he wasn't?

"Now."

Either way, she couldn't afford to fight with him right now. She didn't even have the energy to. She dropped her head after a moment, and shuffled over to the bed without looking at him.

She felt his hand in the small of her back for a moment as she sank down on the bed, and then he held out a roll to her. "Eat that." She did. He handed her an apple, and watched her eat that as well. It wasn't until she'd eaten half of everything on the tray that he moved away from her.

"You can go change now, if you like." He nodded towards the closet, and looked away.

Valerie hesitated, and finally rose and went into the closet. After half an hour she came back out in jeans and a t-shirt. Her hands and arms were shaking uncontrollably, all the way up to her shoulders. "They won't stop," she said quietly, in answer to Zane's unspoken question.

He moved over on the bed as she sat down, gently picking up her hand from her lap. "Why not? Why are they shaking?"

"All the buttons on my pajamas." Valerie swallowed. "It was hard because of how he wrapped them."

Zane nodded silently, and pulled her down beside him. "Other than that, are you alright?" He reached out, touching the side of her face, which was turning a deep purple. "Sorry about that."

Valerie shook her head. "You were right. I was being stupid. Forget it. It's not permanent."

"Have you thought about it?"

For a long moment, Valerie lay very still, frowning thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Can I tell you something Zane? Sometimes the hero is the one who survives. Not the one who gives up their lives. Sometimes, it's more difficult to live than to die. Trust me. I know."

"Perhaps. But what if…"

"Hush." Valerie rolled over onto his chest, and locked eyes with him. "Do you trust me?"

Zane studied her. "I don't know. I mean— I don't."

Valerie looked away tiredly, shaking her head. "I swear I won't leave you here, Zane. I'll come back for you. I swear. I don't know how to make you believe me, but I will."

The silence after that dragged on for almost an hour. Then, finally, Zane pulled the covers up over them, and turned out the lights. "Well, regardless of any of that, we need sleep. I can tell you're still exhausted, and you're going to have that surgery soon."

"I'm supposed to, at least," whispered Valerie, closing her eyes. "Who knows? If they did reach an agreement, and The Tyrant doesn't feel like paying for all of that, he might skip it."

"What if he does?"

"Then my future career is probably ruined, because these hands can't take anymore, and they're going to have to."

* * *

**Surprisingly, this chapter doesn't have much of a cliffy... Sad, isn't it? So what did you all think of their spat?**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	24. Surgery

**It's not explicit, not gory, there's no blood, no description. All of you who get so uptight and squeamish over that, it's not in here. I don't like describing surgeries, since they're boring, so I didn't. (If you want to be a surgeon someday, and I just insulted you, too bad. ;))**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**

Valerie groaned as Zane gently pushed her away, and sat up, flipping the lights on. "Don't do that! I'm tired."

"Wake up. Breakfast will be coming soon. The doctor will probably want to see you too. Do you want to be dressed?"

She opened her eyes, startled. "Why? Aren't I wearing anything?"

Zane laughed at the horror on her face. "Well, you're dressed, but you're wearing flimsy pajamas, and I'd at least want to be in jeans and a t-shirt, if not a combat uniform."

"Ha, ha." Valerie curled back up, and lay still. "I won't bother. These are much easier to move in. If I did want to get involved in any combat, which fortunately for everyone else, I don't, I'd wear these if I couldn't the combat uniform."

"Sure." Zane stretched out across the bed, resting his head on her side. "What do you think is going to happen?"

Valerie muttered something reprovingly. "You've got to wait and find out. You don't need to know right now."

"I want to know."

"Too bad." Valerie ruffled his hair playfully, and leaned over to kiss his forehead. "Before I leave, maybe. For now though, you'll have to put up with it. I like secrets."

The door hissed open, and Valerie looked up, pulling Zane head into her lap as she propped herself up against the pillows. "Good morning." She nodded to The Tyrant as he stepped into the room, accompanied by Dr. Hinesburg and a bodyguard carrying breakfast.

"Nice to see you're feeling so well," said The Tyrant cheerfully. "That little spat you two had yesterday was really quite amusing. I had no idea Zane was anything more than a sidekick. It always seemed to being you making the decisions, but it looks like he has a little more power and influence than I could have guessed. You obey him?"

Valerie met Zane's eyes a moment, a slight smile on her face. "Well— some of the time. Not always."

Zane laughed, and reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes. "Either you punch me, or you don't. It's always a gamble, isn't it?"

"You know me better than that!"

Dr. Hinesburg sidled up to the bed, cautiously reaching out to pick up Valerie's arms. "Err— this afternoon, I'm going to do surgery with five of my colleagues. Will that be alright?"

"Of course." Valerie scooted around to give him more room to examine her arms and hands. "Do you think I could stay awake for the surgery by some chance? I'd like to see how it's done, just in case I ever have to fix something complicated on the run."

"Oh, you couldn't!"

"I meant temporarily."

"You couldn't stay awake!" he repeated, shocked. "It would be horrible! It's going to probably be a fourteen hour surgery, maybe longer. What if something started to wear off, if we didn't re-inject you in time? What if you upset something in the lab? What if—"

The Tyrant waved a hand, cutting off his protest. "Just do it, Hinesburg. She'll be fine."

He blinked several times, and seemed on the verge of saying something, but decided not to at the last moment. "Right then. Someone will come get you a little before noon."

Valerie nodded. "Can Zane come with me?"

"Sorry, but no." The Tyrant turned. "You two are dangerous. I'm not letting you both out at once! Don't insult my intelligence, Madam!"

With an exaggerated sigh, Valerie leaned back, orange in hand. "Thought I'd try asking anyway. Alright. I'll see you in a few hours or so. Just make sure you have enough local anesthetic."

They went out, and Zane sat up, reaching for the tray. "Why do you want to stay awake? I mean— I guess this is a personal choice, but I'd really rather not see someone cut and sewing and injecting my hand if I had a choice. Of course, blood doesn't really affect you, but still."

"Just to make sure they don't do anything incorrectly." Valerie shut her eyes tightly. "I don't want to be rendered incapable forever, because The Tyrant's angry I ruined his reputation."

"Ah. That would be a good reason." Zane nodded to the tray. "You eat something. I don't want to get in another fight with you."

"I was going to eat," muttered Valerie defensively. "I was just thinking."

"Just so long as you eat." Zane yawned. "So did you think of anything yet, or are you still on that ridiculous general plan?"

Valerie glared at him. "For your information, I was expanding on that ridiculous general plan! I'm going to need to get a hold of a lot of things that are hard to get anyway."

"Like what?"

"A nuclear bomb."

Zane gasped, and stared at her, wide-eyed. "You've _got _to be kidding me! A nuke?"

"I am kidding." Valerie laughed at the relieved look on his face, and picked up a sandwich. "Once you get start bombing everything, you're putting your trust in something other than yourself, and you're probably putting innocent people in danger."

"So we're not using any kind of bombs?"

"No." Valerie stopped chewing, and closed her eyes again. "Well— at least, I don't think so. Not nukes, but a bomb could be involved. Remember I used the bombs in The Fortress."

"I remember." He remembered the elation of seeing The Fortress destroyed, and he also remembered the sheer terror he'd felt when he'd found out they had seconds before things blew. He remembered his horror when Madam couldn't get into the copter, and he remembered hurtling down the stairs, and throwing them both under the car. He wasn't so sure that repeating a bomb process would be a good thing.

"Don't worry," said Valerie cheerfully. "You're in the bomb shelter, you know. You should be fine, even if I did use a bomb that way, but that's not how or why."

Zane sighed, and shook his head. "I never really thought we'd get anywhere this far."

Valerie yawned. "That's not a fault. I was certain we wouldn't."

"You were?" asked Zane in disbelief.

"Everything pointed to the inevitable death. I guess I really am lucky, you know. I mean— I'm good, and there's no denying that, but I've managed to escape death narrowly several times already." Valerie licked her fingers, and settled back comfortably.

"You mean you weren't sure any of those things were going to work, and you tried them anyway?"

"If I hadn't tried, I would have died and lost for sure."

This was not an arguable point. Zane had nothing to say about it, but he had the nagging feeling things had been left unfinished. "I never thought _I'd_ get this far, then."

"Why not?"

For a moment, he didn't answer. "Well… keeping me alive isn't top priority."

Valerie looked at him a moment. Studied him hard. It was difficult to say what she was thinking. "Why do you say that?" she asked finally. "Why is your life not a top priority?"

Zane stirred uncomfortably, and finally set the tray on the dresser, turning out the lights. "You know why."

"Do I?"

"Yes."

She moved closer to him in the dark, setting her head on his shoulder. "There are a lot of things you don't understand, Zane. Things are different now. I think you know I've abandoned my original assignment. Maybe I'll never tell you why, but your life is a priority now."

"Liar."

"I'm not."

Zane pushed her away— not too roughly, but firmly. "A damn good one then."

With a laugh, Valerie rolled over and curled up, setting her back to him. "I won't argue with you Zane, but later on, you're going to feel foolish. You're important to me."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"What?"

Zane rose on an elbow, and leaned over her, pushing his face into her silky black hair. "Why are you afraid to kill me?"

Valerie was very still. Neither of them moved for several long moments, and he began to think she wouldn't answer him. "Because… because you remind me of someone," she whispered at last. "You remind me of someone. That's why."

"Who?"

That question she would not answer. "Leave me alone!"

Zane leaned back with a sigh, willing to let it go. He was pushing her buttons again. She had a lot of them, and it seemed that they all had to do with her personal life: her family, her name, her past, the Sun Ye On, and why they wanted her, the child, the fool, the dead.

For a few hours they lay together in the dark without making any noise. Neither or them wanted to be the one to break the stiff silence. Finally though, the doors hissed open, and eight guards stepped into the room, followed by The Tyrant and Dr. Hinesburg.

After a quick check to make sure she'd done no horrible damage to her hands in the last few hours, Valerie was hauled out of bed, and surrounded by the guards.

Neither she nor Zane said anything the whole time. He met her eyes for just an instant before she was escorted out of the room, and that was all. He wondered if she had plans. He wondered if he wasn't going to see her again. Perhaps she'd make a run for it.

Valerie trotted along quietly in the center of the huddle of guards, tightly enclosed, but with plenty of room to move around. After all, the entire criminal world had a healthy respect of her now. She killed Kusac Trabar— that was public now, and she'd blown up The Fortress. The Sun Ye On wanted her dead, and she'd bargained with The Tyrant. They'd probably write a textbook for young criminals on her eventually.

In the operating room, a group of men in white coats were discussing methods of restructuring fine areas of the body, such as the hand. A few of them looked as uncomfortable as Dr. Hinesburg, but two or three looked as though they'd worked for The Tyrant before— and they probably had.

Even though they'd all been told she was young, they all looked shocked when the guards parted to reveal a little girl, with innocent looking black-brown eyes, and a curious smile. _This_ was the person threatening to topple several international COs?

More astonishing were the substantial injuries she had received, and the fact that she wanted to stay awake during the surgery.

With some doubt, she was motioned to the operating table, and they set to work, injecting her arms and hands with all kinds of chemicals until she couldn't feel anything up to her shoulders. Some of the needles were left in, and she was put on several steady drips. It would be catastrophic if she began to feel things half-way through.

They had all been warned to be polite, not to ask questions, and say nothing that would make her angry, but curiosity won out. "Doesn't this hurt you?" burst out one, finally. "How could you have ignored all this damage for so long without painkillers?"

Valerie smiled ruthfully. "Control. It does hurt."

Several of the guards lining the walls looked away hastily as the doctors cut off the bandages on her arms.

"If you need it, there are trashcans in all the corners," murmured one of the doctors who looked like he was used to working with the Mafia. He did not look up from his work. "Your arms and hands took a lot of damage. The bones. The nerves. The tendons."

"I tried." Valerie watched he adjusted the lights and leaned over to examine her fingers more closely. "First the crusher, then I fought my way out. The bandaging was sloppy, and I kept using my hand. My arm got hurt in the train explosion I set off, and I used that too."

"It's amazing any of it still works. It's more amazing your body was capable of handling the pain. Rehab is going to be long, and it'll be difficult to rebuild some of this structure."

Dr. Hinesburg nodded. "This is going to be a hell of a long surgery!"

* * *

**You know, I watched a movie about the Holocaust called: The Pianist, and it really got to me. I mean, I can read stuff, and almost nothing bothers me. Maybe it's because I don't watch a lot of TV, or maybe it's because I'm a pianist too or something. I don't know. It wasn't horribly gory, or anything...**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	25. A Questionable Question

**Sorry I didn't update yesterday. I was sick with a cough, and the medicine I got made me really sick to the stomach. Anyway, I'm exceedingly happy because I'm done with my story for the summer, and I just got a major breakthrough on A Questionable End, (WB). It's wonderful to know how your story's going to end after spending three months on it! Anyway...**

**(grins) I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I think it's the funniest one in the whole story. Now, some of you may disagree with me, and argue that there's nothing funny about it, but I think there is, and it's all relative to the other chapters. The request strikes me as odd, because usually, it's the other way around. (if you're confused, read the chapter)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**

Zane woke up around five in the morning when the doors opened, and Valerie stepped back into the room. Three doctors were with her, as well as the guards. The Tyrant was asleep.

"Now remember, no movement!" After repeating this phrase several times, rearranging it in various ways, they left, and Valerie shuffled over to the bed as he turned on a lamp.

She looked utterly exhausted. The pajama top she had worn into the surgery was gone, but it was no longer needed. From what he could see, her arms had been wrapped up to the shoulders with splints, and padding, and her arms had been bandaged across her body, much as she had done earlier, except for the fact that the bandages wound their way from just above her hips to cover the curve of her breasts.

"What did they _do_?" Zane sat up, reaching out to help her onto the bed. "It's like a straightjacket!"

"It is." Valerie winced as he lowered her onto the pillows, and pulled the covers over her. "The Tyrant did nothing to sabotage the surgery, but he effectively rendered me useless for a while. Not only can I not use my hands, but I can't bend my upper body, and my balance is upset."

"Does it hurt?"

Valerie shook her head as he turned out the lights. "No. Not yet at least. They had me on drip the whole time. I don't think I'll feel it for a while."

"Tell me if you do." Zane turned out the lights, pulled her closer to him, and shut his eyes.

He was tired still from their almost non-stop trek across several hundred miles of Russia, but he couldn't sleep. He had a feeling that the worst was yet to come. How was she supposed to survive when she was so utterly helpless? If she couldn't survive, there was no way he was going to. He almost hated her in a way. Why couldn't she be good enough not to get herself hurt? Why was she risking so much?

Beside him, he felt her move, just slightly, and push her face into his chest. She wouldn't even be able to eat without help. This was ridiculous. There was no way they'd survive.

He almost snapped at her right then, but something wet trickled across his chest, and he felt her take a deep, convulsive breath. She was crying. She must think he was asleep.

Suddenly, his anger disappeared, and he remembered how young she was. Too young. Hardly more than a child, and yet she killed for a living. Something had hurt her. He could tell. She was experiencing more pain than most people did in their whole life, and she was under enormous pressures to perform. He had no idea how she stood it.

She took another deep breath, and pressed her face harder into him in an effort to hide her tears from anyone watching. Slowly, he moved his hand up, and brushed the tears off her face.

Valerie froze and went rigid, heart hammering. Oh the shame… She was crying— the ultimate sign of weakness. His fingers were warm and gentle on her face, but she shouldn't lie to herself. Nothing justified weakness. He must think her a child.

"Hush," he whispered, and then he wrapped his arms tightly around her, and held her until she was done crying.

Finally, Valerie lay against him, exhausted and in immeasurable pain. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm like this, I shouldn't be, but it hurts so bad, and I'm so tired."

Zane sighed, and leaned over her, kissing her forehead. "No excuses. You have every right to cry, and you know it."

The right to cry. For some reason, this simple statement made her collapse into tears again, and she turned away, burying her head under her pillow. She was losing control of everything, herself included. Her pain was out of control, and worse, her tears.

Zane wrapped his arms around her again, and waited for her to finish, resting his head on her neck.

When her shaking had slowed to an occasional shudder, Valerie took a deep breath, and whispered: "Zane?"

"What?"

"It hurts." She bit her lip. "It hurts really bad. I think the pain killers and the drip were diluted."

He didn't move a for a moment. There wasn't much to say about it. He hissed a few soft words in Portuguese, shook his head, and smoothed her hair. "I'm sorry."

Valerie shut her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"

"You're just a little kid." He laughed softly in her ear, teasing but not taunting, and tightened his grip. "You shouldn't have to deal with all this. You shouldn't have to kill people for a living. You shouldn't have to be in this kind of pain."

"I'll be nineteen in three days," she said defensively. "I'm not _that_ young!"

"Yes you are."

Valerie lifted her head in annoyance, and bumped it against his chin. "How old are _you_?"

"That's a very rude question, but I suppose I can answer it. Twenty-one, almost twenty-two." Zane pulled the covers up higher, and lifted her head onto the pillow beside him.

"You're very young for a bodyguard," said Valerie accusingly.

"I'm good."

"So am I."

Zane sighed, and picked up a glass of water off the dresser. "There's a difference though, Madam, and it resides in what we do. You kill for a living. I save lives for a living. You're destroying yourself, and I'm building myself. Fundamental differences."

Valerie didn't answer him.

"Will you—" Zane broke off, not sure that this was the time to ask.

With a groan, Valerie struggled free of his arms. "I've thought about it Zane. I thought for a long time. I know you have a good reason, and you're probably right, but I can't."

"You _can't_?"

"No." Her voice was very small. "I can't."

Zane sat up, and turned on the light so he could look at her better. "You're a hired killer, Madam! I'm an inconvenience! What do you mean you can't? This is ridiculous!"

"I'm sorry." Valerie looked away and shut her eyes. "I just can't do it."

"Why not?"

Her face twitched, and she bit her lip hard. "I told you— you— you remind me of someone I used to know. You remind me of something. That's why. I'm sorry, but I can't."

"What of?"

"I can't tell you. It's the rules." Valerie curled up miserably, and lay still.

Zane set the glass down with a bang, and turned out the light. "Damn your rules!"

Neither of them said anything for several hours. Breakfast came and went. They lay in the dark, side by side, wondering what the other was thinking, and each wishing the other would comply.

At lunch, Dr. Hinesburg and The Tyrant stepped into the room for a few minutes. After a quick examination, she was pronounced to be recovering just fine, and told she could move around, but not to move her arms. She was well rested, well hydrated, well nourished.

As soon as they were gone, Valerie rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, shoulders trembling.

"What's the matter?" Zane leaned over her, feeling a grudging worry for her distress. Not only might whatever bothered her be important, but he felt bad for her.

"They were checking to see if I could travel," whispered Valerie. "I can. The Sun Ye On will pick me up tonight, pull their men out of the area, and The Tyrant will wait like he promised too, and you will still be obliged to tell him the answer. I'll be dead."

"Do you want to tell me more about what this is all about?"

"I've told you everything I could."

Zane looked at her hard. "I feel like I didn't get the whole story. There's nothing more you can tell me?"

"No." Everything was falling apart, and she wanted to retain some hold on her privacy, and some hold on her rules. If she didn't things were going to be even worse. "Zane?"

"What?"

"I'm scared." That kind of defeated the purpose of keeping her rules, but she didn't care. She was scared.

Zane laughed. "I don't blame you. Any other last words?"

Valerie squirmed slightly, and looked away. "I think I have a little favor to ask you."

"Well, considering everything you've done, for me in particular, I don't think that's a terribly presumptuous thing." Zane stretched luxuriously, and leaned back. "What is it?"

"Never mind." Valerie shook her head suddenly and decisively.

"What is it?" Zane was curious now, and determined to find out what it was that she had wanted. "If I can do it, I will."

She did not look convinced. "For some reason, I doubt it, and since I know more about what I was going to ask that you do, I'm betting on myself. I'm not asking, Zane. It was nice of you to volunteer to do it, but I'm not requiring anything else."

"I'd like to give you something else."

Lying there in the dark, Valerie wondered how it was that she had already broken so many rules with him, and let down her guard, and how she had failed with him. But she knew. Inside she knew. "You don't know what I want."

"So ask!"

Valerie didn't answer him.

"Come on, Madam! It can't be that horrible. If you're going to leave me, that's fine. I understand."

"I'm not going to leave you!" she snapped, suddenly angry. "Will you listen to me? I promised you I would come back, and I will, and that's final! If I live, that is."

"And what if you don't live?"

"I can't come back, obviously." Valerie sighed heavily, and drew her feet up underneath her. "What it was— what I was going to ask you, I can't."

"Why not?"

She shook her head. "It was too much to ask, even taking the situation into consideration. Much to much to ask. It was too personal, and I don't think you wouldn't have appreciated it."

"So?"

For a moment, Valerie wanted to slap him. Not only was this impossible though, but it would have done nothing to help. "Turn on the lights, Zane, so I can see your face."

He did.

"I'm probably going to die, right? We've established that?"

Zane shrugged. "Knowing you, as little as I do, I still think you have a good chance, but there is a probability you will, yes." He looked at her a moment, wondering.

"This is a really horrible thing to ask."

"What?" It was so _frustrating_!

Valerie stared at him until he felt uncomfortable, and then turned her head away. "I'm still a virgin."

"What's that got to…" he petered off, frowning distrustfully. "And?"

"I'd really not like to die that way."

Zane blinked several times. This was by far the oddest question he'd ever been asked, in a round-about way. It was being asked, and he knew it. More curious was the fact that she was asking. It was usually him. Not that he'd slept with a lot of girls. Two or three. "I don't think that's exactly something to be ashamed of, unless it's because you were so dirt ugly that you couldn't get anyone. Obviously you're not."

"I don't care." Valerie hesitated. "It's not exactly just about that. I like you too. Much better than most of the people I've met that last few years. I doubt I'd ask anyone else."

"Do you _like_ me?"

Valerie laughed, and turned onto her side. "Sure, I like you. I like you a lot. Don't think I'm asking you under the disillusion of love though, Zane. I'm not kidding myself. I don't have a little kid's crush on you. None of all that stuff. I just like you."

"And?"

"And I'd like to die without my virginity intact."

Zane grinned saucily. It was amazing how she kept composed and was able to discuss such a delicate topic about herself at the same time. "So what am I supposed to do about it?"

"I would like you to shag me," said Valerie calmly.

* * *

**I swear, that last line is just about the funniest thing I ever wrote. Anyway, I was asked to write a naughty chapter to follow this one up, but I'm not sure. Should I?**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	26. The Baby

**I swear, I am absolutely exhausted! I went to a sleepover, and stayed up until six, and then have school this morning... and yeah. Lovely, and so on. But I did have fun. We went to the bookstore until about midnight, and had coffee and cake, and those good things.**

**This is not an explicit chapter, so don't worry, or be disappointed. Either one. I didn't want to change the rating of the story… so yeah. Anyway, the idea for the end of the chapter was smashing, as far as I'm concerned, it's sad, it's sweet, and I think it makes sense.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**

She was by far _the_ most blunt person he'd ever met. It was a decidedly unusual request. "You would like me to shag you?" he repeated, as though he had not heard her correctly.

"That's right. I would like you to shag me."

Two hours later, she was lying underneath him in the dark, sleepy, and quite satisfied, really. Though she personally had no one to compare Zane with, she would guess he was on the better end of the spectrum. Oh yes, and he was very gentle, which scored plenty of points with her, considering the tremendous amount of pain she was in.

Zane shifted slightly, and kissed her throat. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," mumbled Valerie drowsily.

"Why do you kill people?"

For a while, Valerie thought about this. "Why don't _you_?"

"I do." His face was close to hers, maybe an inch away at most, and it was almost like he was backing her into a corner for interrogation. Only, she didn't exactly mind. It was comforting, really, to have him so close, between her and the rest of the world.

"Then what's the difference between us?" Valerie arched her back slightly, and settle with a yawn. She was warm, and she was comfortable. A perfect time to philosophize.

Slowly, he sifted her hair with his fingers, feeling the silky black strands slip through his fingers again and again. "You only take, but I always give something back."

"What do you mean?"

"When I kill, I take a life, and I save a life. One for one. It comes out even in the end. You don't give anything back when you kill, though. You only take." Zane sighed. "Am I making sense?"

Valerie nodded. "Except that you're wrong about me. I've been taken from. It'll never be even."

"They're all dead," whispered Zane, remembering that phrase. Someone should have shot some child, and because they didn't, the child had told someone something, and a whole bunch of people were dead— even the baby. "Even the baby."

Valerie shuddered, but she didn't say anything to contradict him. She'd let things slip early on. He had a general idea of what had gone wrong in her life, even if the details were rough.

"You kill for the wrong reasons." He sounded so serious about this… so concerned. Patronizing. Valerie didn't like it.

"Do I?"

Zane sighed and turned on his side, pulling her with him. "Someday, you'll have to do something to give back— before it's too late. When people take and take, it finally snaps back at them, and they get hurt. You can only take things so far, you know."

"I know."

"Do you kill for revenge?"

She shut her eyes, suddenly wondering this for herself. "I don't know. I might. If I'm not, I may someday. No, I know I will someday. I wouldn't kill people just because they're dead. This is my job. But I'd kill their killers for revenge. I know I would."

Zane kissed her. "Do you know who killed them?"

"The people who killed them— they had no idea why, or who, or anything. It was a higher-up. It was a transcontinental operation. The actual killers didn't even belong to the Sun Ye On. It was through a contact through a contact through a contact type of deal."

"So who do you blame for their deaths?"

"The Sun Ye On," answered Valerie without hesitation. "I blame the man who ordered it."

"Do you think you'll ever find the man who caused their deaths in the first place? The first man to give the order to kill them?" Zane finally rolled onto his back, and decided he was comfortable there. He tucked her head under his chin, and lifted her onto him, pulling the covers up to her nose.

Valerie bit her tongue. She'd wondered that too. "I hope I will in the next few days. And I hope I'll kill him. I hope I look him in the face, tell him what he did, and shoot him down, and I hope it's painful!"

Zane said nothing, but he let his finger slide across her cheek in a light caress, telling her that he had no objections to this idea in the least bit. He seemed to be encouraging it, in fact.

"I'm tired."

"Go to sleep then." Zane kissed her again, and leaned back, wrapping his legs around her, and pushing his face into her hair.

Valerie woke up around four in the afternoon knowing it was almost time. Suppertime was a traditional time for exchange. She sat up slowly, careful not to lose her balance. Beside her, Zane shifted. "What's the matter?"

"Turn on the light."

He sat up obediently, and turned it on before falling back comfortably. "What?" She looked worried. Naturally, if she were worried, he ought to be more so.

"Soon." She looked down, and shook her head. "Dress me. I'm not getting out of bed naked in front of any of them."

Zane grunted something, and slid on his pants under the covers. "What do you want to wear?" He grabbed her bathrobe, threw it around her, and swung off the bed, picking her up.

"Jeans. Tennis shoes. Don't bother with a shirt. I don't need it. From far away, I'll look like I'm wearing white anyway." Valerie waited patiently for him to dress her, smiling as he fumbled here and there. There were things at stake. Everything depended on what happened next, or what didn't. Perhaps she shouldn't have tried to take things so far. Perhaps she would have been smarter to forget the diamond.

"Is that good?"

Valerie nodded as he lifted her upright, and steadied her. "Thank you. I'll need this later." She sighed. "Getting back will be rough. Much more rough than filching the diamond and getting out of the country."

They heard a noise in the next room, and knew she was about to leave. "Hurry up," called The Tyrant, raising his voice slightly. "You obviously know why."

"I hear!" Valerie looked back at Zane. "Be out in a minute!"

Zane looked at her for a few seconds without saying anything. This was very possibly the last time they'd ever see each other, and things were about to start happening. "Um… Madam? If you don't make it back, regardless of why, I understand."

"Thanks." She hesitated, wondering if she ought to. "Zane?"

He waited.

"I will come back for you if I'm alive. I swear."

For a moment, he studied her. Then he crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. "On what? What do you swear on?"

Neither of them moved. In the other room, they could hear The Tyrant talking to Dr. Hinesburg, and the impatient but polite shuffling of the bodyguards waiting to leave. They weren't anxious for it to happen. They had time to waste thinking.

"On what?" he repeated.

Valerie took a deep breath, and shut her eyes. "On the baby."

"Hurry up!" The Tyrant banged on the door. "Two more minutes, and I'm coming in there!"

It didn't matter. Zane didn't move. Valerie didn't move. This was more important.

"Who was the baby?" His eyes drilled into hers, demanding, and searching, and she knew he would be able to tell more than she had said from her answer alone.

"My… my brother," she whispered.

"And what was his name?"

Valerie stared at him. She didn't know how to answer, and she didn't know what to say.

"His name?" he repeated.

Slowly, she shook her head, and then faster. "No! I can't!" She spun around, showing him her back, shoulders shaking. "You don't understand, Zane! I want to forget about that! You don't know what happened… you can't understand. I can't— can't tell you."

Zane wrapped his arms around her, and held her tightly. "Alright. It's fine. Forget it."

Valerie relaxed against him and shut her eyes. "I don't want to go out there."

"Why not?" He tightened his grip even more, ignoring her flinch, and began to rock back and forth.

"I'm scared."

He kissed the back of her neck. "Obviously. How on earth are you hoping to stay alive longer enough? I mean, if you know something, why shouldn't they just shoot you right away?"

"Because they think I know something more. I hope."

Zane frowned. "Why?"

"They think the CIA is involved somehow, and that killing me will set off a chain reaction." Valerie sighed. "They'll keep me long enough to decide I was bluffing. By then, I should be gone, unless something happens, and… and they kill me."

"Are you afraid to die?"

"Only if I can't kill the person responsible first." Valerie set her head on his shoulder. "You've been really great, Zane. You really have. I'm glad I didn't kill you."

The Tyrant banged on the door again. "Hurry up already!"

Zane sighed and reached for the door knob. "Maybe we'd better go. He's going to get angry. You've already made a fool out of him several times, and the Sun Ye On is probably waiting."

"Yes." Valerie paused, eyes still shut, collecting her thoughts, and then opened them, nodding her head sharply.

Zane opened the door.

The escort waiting for her was really quite large, especially considering the fact that she was even more wounded than before. They weren't all the Mafia's men though. There were some Chinese, and she was sure the Sun Ye On had subtly rubbed it in by suggesting that their own men come along to make sure she didn't escape. She stood in the doorway for a few seconds, looking every man in the room over without blinking. They squirmed. Behind her in the doorway, Zane waited, and smirked.

"As you can see," The Tyrant said finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence, and turning to the Chinese man beside him, "she has been rendered completely helpless, especially without even the use of her arms for balance, and she should be no problem."

"Should be, but then, she should have been several times before, and she was after all." He looked down at a picture he was holding, and then back at Valerie who glared at him. "It's her."

The Tyrant beamed. "Well then, if I may have the cash, you may have her. I'd like your men off my land within three hours though."

"Certainly."

Valerie laughed and shook her head. "They'll be here for a while, Tyrant. They want your pretty diamond, but you're not going to find it. I don't think you ever will."

Suddenly, the tension could be felt again, and The Tyrant was sweating. So were the Chinese. If he refused to hand her over, then they could possibly lose her, since she knew they were looking for her now. They needed her dead so badly; she was getting more and more dangerous each day!

Zane kept smirking. It was exceptionally amusing, really, to see these men in distress when they had the supposed upper hand in this situation. They didn't. Madam always did.

"You're lying," The Tyrant said finally. "You looked to the right."

She'd done it on purpose, but he didn't need to know that. Valerie shook her head, and turned around to look at Zane. "Three days at the most, understand? I swear."

"On who?" Everyone knew he was challenging something. Everyone knew he was challenging her. Why, they did not know, but they knew it was important.

For a moment, their eyes were locked. Neither of them moved, and the others waited, because they felt obligated to by the importance the last few words had emitted.

Valerie finally dropped her eyes, and stepped away, allowing herself to be surrounded by the Mafia and the Sun Ye On. She hesitated, as she turned with them, and stopped suddenly. "It was…"

Everyone waited. "Zane."

"What?" He looked slightly confused. Hadn't they talked over everything in the closet?

"No—" Valerie shut her eyes tightly and took a deep breath. Rules were about to be broken… "The baby. That was his name."

* * *

**Feel free to sniffle loudly.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	27. Laughter

**Kind of funny, no pun intended, that there's laughter in this sad of a story. Well... serious. Anyway, was messing up, and I didn't get any alerts until today that I should have gotten a week ago. Sorry if I haven't reviewed some stories yet, and thanks for your reviews. I'm so happy to have over 31 reviews on my oneshot! Makes me feel very proud...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

* * *

**

As Valerie through the main hallway and into a side room she began to wish she hadn't said that. He'd realize what she meant in a few moments, and then he would also see her weakness. Him.

She was motioned to a chair at the end of a long table where there were several of the Sun Ye On already sitting. The Tyrant seated himself opposite of her, and cleared his throat. "Well gentleman? This is the woman you were looking for, I assume?"

There were murmurs of agreement. Valerie sighed, and began to look around. High overhead, maybe thirty feet above them, there was a huge chandelier. Her heart sped up. This certainly looked like it had been used for a meeting room for a long time. Was the diamond this was all about sitting in a bunch of wires thirty feet above their heads?

The irony of the situation hit her, and she began to laugh quietly, turning her face away quickly as the entire table turned to look at her. "Excuse me," she choked. "I—"

"What's funny?" Her laughter made all the men nervous. She was a dangerous woman, and she was in danger. If she thought something was funny, there was a real possibility that they were all in danger and just didn't realize it yet. She shouldn't be laughing.

Slowly, Valerie rose, and began to pace. On of the guards stepped towards her, but she whirled before he could touch her, catching him by surprise. "Yes?"

Stammering an apology, he backed away, feeling horribly intimidated by someone almost a foot and a half shorter than he was. Maybe it was her eyes, but at any rate, he wished he hadn't done it.

"What's funny?" someone repeated.

Valerie studied the room carefully, noting its layout, and the pillars on the side as well as the huge windows to the east, and the skylights at the far end. "Nothing really… except… you've all made a horrible mistake."

This was, of course, the most unnerving thing she could have possibly said at the moment, and so she said it. It worked. All of the men shifted around in their chairs, watching her for more information and trying to keep their faces calm. A few looked around the room in hopes of catching their mistake in time to get out alive.

Naturally Valerie refused to say anything more, but continued to walk up and down behind her chair like a caged cat.

For several minutes, there was a very tense silence as the men looked to each other for direction, and at her for a hint as to what they'd done wrong. Finally, as The Tyrant had all along, he shook his head, and pronounced her a liar.

This brought more laughter from Valerie. "You called me a liar when I told you I wasn't in your data bank, but I wasn't. You called me a liar when I told you the Sun Ye On were on your land, remember? You said I was trying to cause a diversion when I told you they were going to try to kill me. You've called me a liar before, particularly when I told you I could escape. I did. What kind of fool are you?"

The Tyrant turned livid, but he couldn't very well make an argument with her, and everyone knew it. "Sit down, and be quiet!"

Valerie snorted. "I'd like to see you make me!"

Two of the bodyguards reluctantly stepped forward to force her back in her chair, but they stopped when Valerie shook her head at them. "Think carefully now, what do you value more? Your jobs or you lives?"

Tension went up even more, if it was possible.

"Don't think," she continued, "that I am now incapable of being dangerous in this condition. On the contrary, I'm all the more so, because it will be more difficult to amend my mistakes."

Luckily for them The Tyrant decided to back down before they were forced to make a grab at her. He waved them back to their posts, and gave his attention to the Sun Ye On representatives. "Anyway, getting on with it, will you sign the document?"

On of the men was talking in rapid Chinese over a headset, and frowning and smiling at regular intervals. Finally he turned to The Tyrant. "We will need about four hours to make sure all of our men are off your land. There are an extensive number, and we are afraid it will not only take time to contact them all, but move them out."

After a moment of contemplation, The Tyrant nodded. It probably couldn't be avoided, and so long as they were off in the next five hours he wasn't going to complain. Who knew? It might even be a valid point.

With a flourish, he produced a pen, and held it out to the representative, smiling to himself as the agreement was signed. Of course, the United Nations wasn't going to enforce it, but the underworld had its own presiding peacemakers, and they always wanted to see a copy of a treaty before siding with anyone on anything.

The representative handed back the pen, and everyone rose simultaneously. That part was over. Now came the part in which they all tread cautiously around Madam, waiting for something to blow up.

Very slowly, a few of the Sun Ye On approached her, obviously holding their breaths, and prepared to jump back at the slightest twitch.

Valerie sighed, like a mother might at a naught child, and stopped pacing. "Oh, get on with it! And stop looking at me like I'm going to eat you! I'm only a little girl!"

To everyone's relief, Valerie contented herself with mere fidgeting while the men wrapped her. As she had said, she was even more dangerous now, and they didn't want to risk her running away or kicking anyone. To insure themselves more control, they tugged a child's harness over her head, and attached a little leash. Not that she should be able to walk anyway, but still… Valerie thought this was hilarious.

In the end, she looked remarkably like a baby in a bag. She allowed herself to be picked up and carried without a fight, still laughing.

The Sun Ye On looked rather embarrassed, as a whole. After all their bragging about being able to handle her, they were taking ridiculous measures to secure her, both literally and metaphorically.

The Tyrant wisely said nothing about it. After all, he'd made a bigger fool of himself.

She was carried outside to the helicopter pad and set down while the Sun Ye On talked. The Tyrant's men watched from a distance. There was obvious distrust between the two groups. Over all though, the bargaining had seemed fair. If the Sun Ye on were off Mafia land in four hours, the five assassins that had been captured would be released as well as the body of the sixth.

Helicopters finally appeared overhead, three of them, all military, and landed on the pad. The group quickly split into three, the largest of them escorting Valerie to the middle copter. No chances with her. There had been rumors about her expertise when it came to flight, and…

Valerie was dragged to the back of the copter, and very nicely tided to a support pole. She still didn't seem to be particularly worried about escaping, which pleased them very much. The Tyrant had mentioned something about her plotting revenge, and they assumed that was the reason she was so eager to comply with them.

It was already passed nine and dark. Then men settled comfortably into their seats, and began to chatter quietly. They weren't particularly worried about what Valerie did, which was a mistake as it turned out.

There was a loose nail on the floor, and she could feel it, because it was poking her leg. Valerie was patient. She already had a plan, and she couldn't help but feel that the Sun Ye On had aided her immensely. It was really quite nice of them to provide the harness.

An hour passed, and the chatter ceased as the men began to fall asleep. Valerie shifted quietly, caught the cloth of her wrap on the nail, and began to rip it. Not a huge rip, but definitely big enough for her to continue it later. She leaned back, that done, and appeared to be falling asleep. Actually, she had the knot on the leash in her mouth, and was untying it with her tongue.

It was funny, really. All their precautions, and yet probably the only person awake was the pilot, and he was flying, not guarding her. The knot came undone, and she glanced around. As far as she could tell, all the men were asleep.

Up front, the radio suddenly cackled, startling her, and several of the men awake. Very wisely she shut her eyes and pretended to be asleep, pressing the end of the leash between her and the pole, hoping it would go unnoticed. If not, they would ask someone to stay awake and watch her, and she really wanted to avoid that. It would ruin her escape.

After a moment of yelling at the pilot to turn down the radio, someone leaned over Valerie to check and make sure she was asleep. This was happily confirmed, and the men settled back in their seats, proud of themselves, and full of confidence that she would not escape. They were quite proud of themselves, really. The Sun Ye On did not make stupid, amateur mistakes as the Mafia did. They were really professionals.

Inside, Valerie was laughing at them. What fools they were! The whole _world_ was! To think that she could be restrained by a wrap and a child's harness. Ha. She shook her head slightly, and waited. Patience was vital.

Another hour passed. She needed to get out before much more time passed. She didn't want to be rushing anything at the end.

Carefully she opened her eyes and looked around, pleased to see that everyone was once again asleep. She made the rip in her wrap a little bit wider, until she could pull her feet out of the hole, one at a time, and then turned over onto her back, holding the end of the leash off the floor with her mouth so the metal wouldn't scrape loudly.

Inch by inch, she scooted back to the tail of the copter, through a small maze of boxes. There _had_ to be a rear exit. She smiled as the catch brushed against her shoulder, ignoring the pain. Almost out, Valerie. It was funny, really, to think of their faces.

She turned slowly, biting down hard at the painful pressure this put on her arms. When would this _end_?

Slowly, she pushed the end of the leash over the metal catch. After checking to see that it was secure, she crawled upright, and pulled back, hoping desperately that there would be no loud clang when the exit popped open. Not now… not after waiting like this.

To her relief, the hinges only went so far, and it stopped before hitting anything.

Valerie moved to the edge, measuring it with her eyes. She doubted any of the men would be able to fit through it, but she could definitely do it. After all, she was a child's size.

She sat down beside it, and worked carefully with her mouth to remove the leash from the catch. It was very important that they didn't know how she'd gotten out of the copter. If they did, they'd be waiting for her better when they landed. Probably catch her too.

The wind was very cold, and she sat there shivering for a few minutes after pulling the leash off the catch. She wondered how long it would be before they landed. Hopefully not too long. Her arms hurt now, they were going to hurt worse, and she was going to get awfully numb up here.

With a sigh, she leaned over, and looked out, squinting at the nearest crossbeam. Luckily for her, they were curled upwards in the back, and should be no trouble hooking onto.

The problem was the distance.

Slowly, she rolled onto her back, and slid her head and her shoulders out, gritting her teeth against the cold. She could probably make it.

She slipped out farther, until she was dangling from her knees. It was ridiculous, really. She was hanging without a safety belt from the rear exit of a helicopter, and no one knew she was here. It was windy, they were a couple thousand feet in the air, it was dark, and it was cold. She thought she felt something wet.

Definitely ridiculous. She couldn't wait to see their reactions. They would be in trouble for sure when they landed. _She disappeared_ wasn't exactly the best excuse to give your boss.

She laughed.

* * *

**I've never done this before (jumped out of a copter), but I imagine it would be interesting. What do you think?**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	28. Nukes

**Nuclear weapons. Oh so frightening...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Valerie took a deep breath, and swung herself towards the crossbeam, wincing as the metal scraped her back. For a moment, she was afraid she was going to fall, and then the harness caught, slipping neatly over the crossbeam. Safe.

She caught hold of the exit with her foot, and pulled it closed behind her as she pulled her legs out. Now came the waiting.

Around two that morning, one of the men in the back woke up. It took him a moment to realize something was missing, and then the yell that ensued woke up everyone else in the copter.

Madam was gone.

Lights came on, and they searched every square centimeter of the copter. There was no way, with this many people and in this small space, that she could have hidden. But she was not there! She was gone!

The other helicopters called, wanting to know what was wrong, and were equally horrified to learn that Madam was simply not in her helicopter. There was no sign of her. The pilot would have noticed if the door had been opened obviously, and no windows were broken.

The harness was gone, the wrap was gone, and she was gone. How she'd gotten out, and where she was now were a mystery. Most importantly, whether she was alive or not was a mystery.

It was now common knowledge what one of the more friendly bodyguards had mentioned to one of their men: "Oh yeah, real slick, isn't she? She was talking about jumping without a parachute when we were coming it. All sorts of crazy things. I believe she'd do 'em too!"

By far, this was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to any of them.

Valerie dozed on and off, smiling slightly when the first few yells woke her up. She highly doubted they would ever find her. Perhaps no one would know how she'd done it until she got back to America and her biography was written. She was sure it would be.

Imagine the mortification…

The copters suddenly began to lose altitude, and she snapped awake. Either they were making an emergency landing, or they'd reached their stop. Hastily she wriggled around on the crossbeam, making sure the harness wasn't stuck on anything.

She'd kicked the bottom half of the wrap off long ago, not wanting to leave any clues once they'd landed. It would be better if they thought she'd disembarked miles back.

Her kicking legs were the first thing to touch the ground, and she hastily went up onto tiptoe, sliding the harness straps off the crossbeam.

Before the copter had touched the ground, she was already off the pad, melting into the trees. It would take a miracle for the Sun Ye On to find her, and they weren't exactly on heaven's good side.

She considered herself safe.

It took her a while to remove the harness and wrap, but she was several miles away then, and could afford to stay in one place. She doubted they would start looking in this area.

Now, of course, came the hard part— getting back to Zane. They'd traveled mostly south, and a little west. After a while of turning around and around, she decided she was lined up right, and took off at a slow jog, determined to run all day if she had to. They probably hadn't even gotten out of Russia yet, so she had a good shot at getting there in the next few days.

She ran for hours in a straight line at the same speed. She had to get to Zane, get the stupid diamond, and get out of there. Of course, they were probably expecting her now, considering the things she and Zane had said to each other. That could be a problem.

A whole day passed, and it began to get dark again. The ground got steeper and more rocky. She was sure she was getting nearer. After all, the house was somewhere in the Verkhoyansk Mountains. The problem would simply be finding it, though if she went towards the area that had more guards, and was more heavily populated by Mafia, she supposed she could find it.

The problem would lie in finding a Mafia post without letting them find her. They would be watching, and she would not know where they were.

* * *

Rivers was in his office, biting his nails. A nasty habit, but probably excusable, considering the circumstances. He'd paid top dollar for a website on her, (carefully hidden of course, since wrong publicity was as bad as no publicity) which was now visited by several thousand persons an hour. The betting pool had reached several million. His— or rather Valerie's client had just sent him an update for the site. 

She'd had huge reconstructive surgery, and there were pictures of her hands and arms. Very gruesome, gory pictures. There were also pictures of Valerie chatting with the doctors during the surgery, and how she looked all bandaged up. That was disturbing. She definitely could not use her hands, and her balance was probably upset.

The Tyrant had traded her to the Sun Ye On. There were pictures of the meeting, and of Valerie, laughing about something. Everyone else in the room looked worried.

There was also a slight problem. Valerie had been loaded onto the helicopter, and there were pictures of this too. Sometime while they were in the air, she had disappeared. Just disappeared. There was absolutely no sign of her, or of her route of escape. The exits were shut, the windows were secured. She'd been tied to a support post in the middle of the copter. There was no way she could have disappeared, but she had. It was rumored that she had talked about jumping. Without a parachute. There were none.

He'd also been sent some other information, which he'd decided not to divulge to the public at large. Valerie and Zane were getting very close. It appeared that they knew each other somehow. Neither he, nor Rivers had any idea of where they'd met. This was bothersome. What if she failed because of her attachment to him?

More interesting though, was the voice file.

_"For your information, I was expanding on that ridiculous general plan! I'm going to need to get a hold of a lot of things that are hard to get anyway."_

_"Like what?"_

_"A nuclear bomb."_

She was crazy. Of course, that would stir up the criminal world a good bit, and possibly cause some panic. That could be a good thing, or a bad thing, depending on who panicked. He decided to post it anyway, and sat back, waiting for responses.

They weren't good. The basic idea being portrayed was that Madam was on the loose with a nuclear bomb.

She wasn't. He hoped.

* * *

As it became darker, Valerie slowed slightly, reverting to stealth as she became more and more certain she was in Mafia territory. 

It turned out she was right.

Up ahead, a light flashed a moment, and then it was dark again. She heard the mumble of voices. Stupid sentries. Anyone could get past once they knew where they were.

For a moment, she was highly tempted to slit one of their throats in the dark so The Tyrant would know she was coming back, and taunting him openly. Then she decided not to. The men may have been idiots, but they were helping her in a way, and one good turn deserved another.

She slipped past them in the dark, and kept going inward, watching more carefully now for the guards. The closer she got, the more there would be, and the harder it would be to lose them in the dark. She absolutely _could_ not set anything off.

As she got closer, it got quieter, and quieter. Everyone was waiting. Everyone was listening.

It was almost relieving to hear the rumble of a car on a dirt road, a quarter mile to the right. Valerie went towards the noise, deciding to follow the road up to the house.

At the road, she crouched down in the branches of an enormous pine, watching with amusement as first one car, and then another passed along towards the north. The cars were full of Chinese. No doubt the Sun Ye On and The Tyrant had decided to collaborate. The Sun Ye On wanted her dead. The Tyrant was probably afraid of her nuclear bomb threat.

Certain that most, if not all, or the vehicles had passed her, she began to move, still cautious, but fairly certain she would not run into anyone. After all, who guarded the road? No self-respecting spy would just _walk_ in!

Valerie was not a spy.

It took her almost an hour to come within sight of the mansion, and by then the dull ache in her arms had reached a throbbing burn. She wanted to stop desperately, but she knew she couldn't. Zane was waiting for her, and she needed as much time as she could get.

From the top of the hill she was on, she could see the helicopter pad, well lit. The Sun Ye On's top men weren't going to drive in. The same copter she left in was sitting on the pad, and men were streaming out of it. Inwardly she laughed, imagining the testimonies they'd give… _Yes, ah, she was nowhere in the helicopter. Just sort of gone, you know?_

On either side of the pad lay long barrack type buildings, and on one end the mansion. The only open side was guarded by a wall of Mafia. Very well. She wouldn't go there, if only because it was ridiculous, and they would be expecting it. It would be ridiculous not to do it, perhaps.

Slowly, she made her way down the hill, leaving the path of the road, and going around the outskirts of the buildings.

The hard part would be getting to Zane. The harder part would be getting the diamond. The hardest part would be staying alive. Valerie sighed. Things were getting very complicated.

It took her a while to get onto the roof, but in the end, it was worth it. She crept through the shadows, feeling almost childish in her glee at being able to see the entirety of the enemy without their knowledge.

For a moment, she was tempted to play some trick, to watch the confusion of the men when rocks started raining down for no reason.

That idea passed quickly, however. Now was not the time. Perhaps it would never be that time. The time for the innocence of children was gone. Valerie was a killer. Right now, she had to kill or be killed. Right now, she either had to kill Zane and get out, or save him and the diamond before getting out. Neither prospect was inviting.

As she walked along the roof, she happened upon the skylights of the meeting room. Immediately her curiosity was aroused. What were they saying about her, she wondered?

She crouched down carefully by the window, not wanting to be seen, but unwilling to lie down, since it would be difficult to get up without her hands.

Below her, the table was even more crowded than yesterday, and in her seat was Zane, mouth shut tightly, staring at the table in front of him as members of bother parties hurled question after question at him.

Valerie sighed, got down on her stomach, and pressed her ear to the window to hear better.

"Where is she, damn it?" The Tyrant rose, pounding his fist unmercifully on the table. "She disappeared in mid-air! She must be somewhere!"

Zane shut his eyes.

One of the Sun Ye On leaned over Zane, jerking his head up. "Listen to me— answer one question, and that will suffice. Just one; just a yes or no. Nothing more."

Everyone was quiet, waiting. Slowly, Zane looked at him.

"I just want to know," he said, biting the words, "if Madam really has a nuclear bomb. That's all I want to know. Just a yes or no answer, and we'll send you back."

The quiet increased. That, of course, was the big question. A nuclear bomb affected a whole lot of people. It affected everyone.

Zane suddenly pushed back his chair from the table and stood. He looked around the room. Then, he began to laugh, and laugh, and laugh. "Yes," he said finally.

Above them, Valerie smiled. How _wicked_!

* * *

**Glorious, isn't it? Just wait and see what she does!**

**By the way, several people have asked how many chapters. There are 32 total, (not 32 left!) and a short epilogue. After that, I have other stories for the summer, and I'm well into a very large, 11 page per chapter, Artemis-and-Holly-save-the-world story.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	29. Infiltration

**Almost to the end. Valerie kills in this chapter again, but it's not bloody or gory really. At least I don't tell you it is. It's so sad to reach the end of a story, you know what I mean? No regular emails saying you got another review every week… Very sad. But... I have stories for this summer. Lots of them. And a story for after that. I feel pretty good about being so far along and ahead, if you know what I mean.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

When Zane said yes, he probably not only alarmed the people in the room, but everyone across the globe. It was posted on the site within twenty minutes. People panicked.

As promised, he was escorted back to his room, and left there, while the Mafia and the Sun Ye On began to worry. Well— they'd been worrying. Now they were worrying for more than her life— they were worrying for their own. Entirely different things.

The Mafia and the Sun Ye On were advised by criminals across the globe_ and_ the Criminal Union to comply with Madam in every way. Finally, they decided to guard Zane as closely as possible. As long as he was there, they reasoned, she would not detonate the bomb. If she made demands, they were probably willing to negotiate.

Valerie watched the whole thing unfold over the course of an hour. She liked it. She really did.

What she was going to need, she decided, was a kitchen timer. All she needed was a cell phone, and a simple kitchen timer. Now _that_ was going to be difficult to find.

She lay on the roof, thinking, and almost ignoring the chaos underneath her. If she was going to do anything, she probably wanted Zane out. Yes, she _needed_ Zane out. Without him, she couldn't dial a phone, or set a timer.

Valerie shut her eyes. It would be pushing things, but if she were careful, she might be able to pass herself off as Chinese to the Mafia. The Sun Ye On would know better, but if she avoided them, she might be able to get inside to where she needed to be…

She liked this idea.

With a groan of pain, she scrambled to her feet, and then stopped. Damn! She needed her hands.

Slowly she turned in a circle, looking around the roof for something to catch the bandages on so she could rip off the outer ones. She'd be stealing a shirt anyway, and an armless man would probably be suspicious. Definitely suspicious.

A weathervane. With a grin, she hurried across the roof, and backed into the pointer until the rusty metal pierced the first layer of bandages. Then, she began to pull.

With a quiet rip, the bandages began to unwind. Round and round she went hoping the white streamers didn't alert anyone on the ground. Her arms began to tingle, but as she had hoped, and individual bandages on her fingers, wrists, and lower arms stayed in place.

It was freezing without her thick casing of bandages, and she stood in the dark a moment, shivering.

Then, slowly, painfully, she bent and began to gather up the bandages, wadding them up. A chimney that was decidedly fake had the honor of being stuffed with them, and then she was off.

At the edge of the roof, she paused, looking over the back gardens. They were pitifully guarded, really. She crept along to the corner of the roof, and slithered down the fire escape ladder.

If anything, they should have had someone near that, but they didn't.

Twenty minutes later, there was a sound like a cough, broken off abruptly from the trees. Valerie quickly pulled on the man's shirt and leather gloves, glad for the little protection they did provide.

Taking the rope in his pack, Valerie tied his hands behind his back, threw the end over a branch high in the tree, and neatly tied him out of sight. Then she climbed up and slit his throat. It was rather bloody, and she gagged as it came pouring out, but she couldn't risk a gun shot being heard. Besides, this made her point better.

With a sigh, she jerked off his hat, and pulled it over her head, tucking up her hair. Hopefully she looked like a boy. She _knew_ she didn't look like a man, but at least a boy…

Valerie took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and then set off with a swagger towards the house. She didn't bother being inconspicuous. She was probably more so with the bold showiness than with the shyness amidst two competing COs.

She brushed past a Mafia guard stationed at the door with confidence, and kept walking towards the back of the house. A few of the men snickered at her as she walked by, but Valerie stuck her nose in the air and marched on, looking every bit the young braggart she was posing as.

Of course, she would have puffed out her chest, but that would have been pushing things a little _too_ far.

When she came to the stairs, she was stopped by a guard. Apparently the Mafia didn't want the Sun Ye On to mess up. There weren't any Chinese in the area. She was told with no uncertain motions to turn around and go back to where she came from.

Valerie cleared her throat, said a Chinese swear word, and spat: "Zane!"

She might not have understood the Russian, and the guard might not have understood the Chinese, but they both knew who Zane was.

He shook his head.

"Zane!" Valerie stomped her foot in frustration, and motioned to her eyes as she repeated it.

One of the guards at the bottom of the stairs shouted up something, and with great reluctance, the man in her way moved back. Valerie strutted down the stairs, almost tripping twice.

For once, she was not concerned the people were laughing at her. Rather, she was relieved. If they began to suspect who she was, they would probably become very quiet, if not obviously afraid. After all, she was rumored to have a nuclear bomb.

She tripped once more at the bottom of the stairs, and fell flat on her face. The guards roared. Inside she was crying. This pain— this was more than she'd ever imagined having to bear. It was good her shirt was black. Her bandages were becoming bloody.

Valerie staggered to her feet, brushed herself off with as much dignity as she could muster, and sniffed: "Zane!" at them haughtily.

After a moment of talking amongst themselves, one of them moved to the bomb shelter, and tapped in the password. With a hiss, the doors unfolded themselves, spilling light into the dark room. On the bed, Zane sat up, shielding his eyes. "What the hell?"

Valerie pushed past the guard, tripping again, to the great amusement of the onlookers, and stumbled across to Zane. "Zane?"

Zane swore at her in Portuguese, and batted her away as she leaned over him. "What do you want? I answered the stupid question, and I was just getting to sleep!"

She squinted at him, appearing to be deciding it was really him. "In a while," she whispered. "Be ready for it. This evening."

His eyes widened considerably, but he didn't say anything, and a moment later, the look was gone.

Muttering a few more swear words, she spun sharply, catching her balance against the dresser, and upsetting a glass of water all over her pants. The guards were close to tears by now, and Valerie flounced out, falling once more as she missed the bottom step.

At the top of the stairs, several men were crowded around a laptop, and Valerie leaned over it, seeing to her surprise a large website devoted entirely to her by the Criminal Union. There was a phone number for reporting information about her actions, location, and demands. It looked like they were taking the nukes quite seriously.

Valerie memorized the phone number, and stole one of the men's phones. Later on, she was going to call The Tyrant. She was sure it would be amusing. Very amusing.

The men allowed her to wander around a bit, mostly for the comic relief, laughing every time she did something stupid, which was quite frequently. Every once in a while, Valerie would stop what she was doing, and lecture them with as much seriousness as she could muster after a particularly loud outburst of laughter.

Finally though, she decided to leave, and marched out in haughty frustration after another spill. Quickly, quietly, she climbed onto the roof, and lay down between two chimneys in the shadows, wondering where she could possibly find a kitchen timer.

She didn't even know where the kitchen was, let alone her way around it. Zane probably did. She wished he were with her. Things would be so much easier and less painful.

Valerie finally entered the number in the phone, and saved it, so she wouldn't have to worry about forgetting it. Then, she laid the phone in the gutter, and climbed off the roof. It was almost morning. She needed to get the timer, and get back up here before anyone noticed the man she had killed, or her suspicious youth.

She entered the house again, and began to wander, avoiding most of the Sun Ye On, and examining the Mafia curiously as she passed them. They mostly ignored her, confident that a little boy like her was no threat. She looked like a child really, and there were so many of them. Besides, he'd probably been told to behave in enemy territory.

Finally, Valerie heard the clicking of silverware and plates, and smelled food with lots of soy sauce. She shuffled down several hallways, and finally appeared in a huge kitchen.

A large man turned around, shaking his head in disgust at the boy they'd sent to help him, and shoved a huge bowl of batter at her along with a pancake flipper and a measuring cup. He babbled something in Chinese for a few moment, motioned to the stove, and went back to chopping up walnuts.

Valerie obediently set about making pancakes, looking around for a timer as she did. There certainly weren't any lying around.

Behind her, the cook was talking to himself, probably about the recipes and dishes to be served later that day. Valerie took the liberty of slipping a few rolls into her shirt.

The talking droned on an on, and confident he would hear her over his own noise, Valerie began to open cupboards between pancakes. There seemed to be an unending wall of them, and she grew more and more frustrated as it got lighter, the heat grew, and a few of the pancakes burned.

A timer was vital to her plans, and if she didn't get one, it was going to be a hell of a lot harder to get the stupid diamond out of the chandelier.

Behind her, the cook let out a high pitched yelp of frustration, and dropped something. Potatoes rolled across the floor, freshly peeled and washed, and now dirty.

Valerie bent down and started picking them up as he cursed, and yelled, and dashed around trying to keep everything from literally going up in smoke at once. She got the impression that he was not only annoyed with having to handle this himself, but that he was a gourmet chef of some kind. This must be an extremely frustrating situation.

There. On the counter, there was timer. Right behind the area he was chopping onions to a fine mush.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, and saw to bother her horror and annoyance, that he was returning to continue his chopping. She had to get that timer, and she couldn't think of any rational excuse for picking it up. A distraction was in line.

The nearest bowl of fruit was right behind him, and she crept over, picking up oranges, and began to stuff them into her pocket. In the process she managed to break a plate by nudging it off the counter.

With a yell of rage, he turned around, making a grab for her. Valerie, who was considerably less portly easily avoided him, and twisted around behind him, snatching up the timer, and joining it with the rolls in her shirt. She'd better get out of here.

With a grunt, she pushed past him, dropping a few oranges, but not all of them, and fled the kitchen, screaming dramatically as the doors flew open, and he came waddling out after her.

The Mafia members watched this with much amusement, laughing uproariously when Valerie pushed the cook down the stairs, and darted out the back door into the gardens.

After checking to make sure no one was watching Valerie hastily climbed back onto the roof, berating the fast fading darkness. If someone saw her, all her fun would be absolutely _ruined_ and she was _so_ looking forward to sending The Tyrant a nice package that evening.

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**Points to anyone who understands why she wants the timer.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	30. The Timer

**Everyone guessed wrong about the timer except NeverEndingBliss. Well-- they knew it had to do with the bomb, but everyone mentioned about faking the bomb, because of the ticking. What are timers used for, people? To keep track of _time_! Besides, what kind of nuke can you send in a box, and what kind of nuke _ticks_?**

**I think this chapter is a little sad. A lot of talking on the phone, but it's good talking.**

**Anyway, uh, I already have a story for after A Questionable End, which is coming out in September, and will take at least a semester to finish. Grr. I think I'm getting a lot of ideas at once, and that's probably not good, since I haven't finished AQE. Anyway, I'm going to write a story about Julius, because he's dead, and all. Kind of tribute thing, but an actual story. About his relationship with Mulch (which I've decided started in kindergarten over a pink crayon), his run-in with his brother, which lead to his commandership, his love/hate relationship with Foaly, and his love life, which is obviously Vinyaya. ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Around seven that evening, half-way through The Tyrant's meeting and interrogation of Zane, Valerie called the Criminal Union's hotline. Some idiot answered the phone. Probably a young clerk who'd just gotten the job and was anxious to please. "Yes?"

In the background, voices hummed, and she heard the word: _Madam_ several times. She had no idea so many people knew so much about her. Perhaps they were just making it up. "Hi. This is Madam. I'd like to negotiate with The Tyrant, and I don't have his number. Can you hook me up?"

With a clatter, and a resounding shriek Valerie felt inclined to believe was heard for several miles, the clerk stood up, screamed: "It's Madam!" and fell down. She wasn't used to speaking with celebrities.

Only a few moments later, the phone was picked up by a serious sounding man in his forties or so. "Hello, this is the Criminal Union, how may I assist you?"

"Hi," said Valerie patiently. "I'd like to speak with The Tyrant and I haven't got his number. I realize a nuke could kill a lot of innocent people, and I'd like to negotiate this without violence."

For an instant only there was an uncertain pause. "Thank you for being willing to negotiate before acting. He's been advised to cooperate. If he does not, please call us back before finalizing your actions, because we may be able to help you. It's dialing now."

"Thanks." Valerie peered down into the conference room, amused at The Tyrant's annoyance when his phone began to ring. He finally picked it up, and growled out a hello to someone at the CU, eyes widening in shock when he learned Madam was waiting to speak to them. After switching to room speakers, he indicated he was ready, and Madam was on the phone.

"Good evening."

The Tyrant squirmed in his seat, obviously uncomfortable. "Er… hello."

Everyone around the table was leaning forward intently, holding their breaths, and hoping she would ask for something they could immediately promise her.

Valerie said nothing.

"Is there… ah… something you want?" He wiped the sweat off his face.

"You've been questioning Zane." Valerie liked watching the whole room squirm. Zane was the only one who seemed comfortable right now.

"Yes," said The Tyrant rather weakly.

"I don't like that." Valerie grinned to herself. "You see, I'm a little fond of Zane. I don't like that at all."

The Tyrant got a little paler. "I'm— sorry. It won't happen again. I mean, if we could make it up to him in any way. We were just worried about the nuke, and we thought—"

"Enough."

He stopped babbling and waited. So did the rest of the room. The atmosphere was uncomfortable at best.

"How have you treated him otherwise?"

"Very well!" gasped The Tyrant. "Would you like to speak with him perhaps?"

"I would. Talk to me Zane. Any complaints?"

The whole room turned towards Zane, silently begging him to assure her that he was perfectly happy, and she should let them off the hook for the questioning after all.

Zane smiled heartlessly at the room. "I miss you, dear. It's been abominable keeping them in line without you."

"I miss you too. How have they treated you other than the questioning?"

"Alright, I suppose," he admitted grudgingly. "It could have been better, but there wasn't any torture this time. I was well fed. I wasn't disturbed too often. I got ice cream when I asked for it."

Valerie laughed. "How nice of them."

There was silence for a few more minutes, in which Zane leaned back comfortably in his chair, and the others in the room grew more and more tense.

"Is there something you want?" asked The Tyrant finally, in growing desperation.

"Of course. Not from you though. It's the Sun Ye On I'm concerned with."

Heads snapped up across the room. They hadn't expected this. Finally though, one of the Sun Ye On representatives who spoke good English asked, "How can we help you?"

"Tell me," said Valerie quietly. There was a terrifying cool in her voice. "Is the man who ordered my family obliterated with you?"

This upset the room even more. Madam had a blood grudge against someone. Oh happy days. This made it even more unlikely that she would listen to reason.

Chinese heads turned, and one of the men below let out a strangled yell, and screamed: "It wasn't me! I was ordered to by—"

"He's dead though," someone said.

The man slumped back in his chair with a moan as several guards stepped closer to insure he did not escape. After all, if he was what they were bargaining with they couldn't very well afford for him to run off.

"The original one is dead," said the man finally. "The next in line is with us, yes."

Valerie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Tell me what my father did," she said finally, "that he was in fear all his life. What did he do, that demanded the senseless slaughter of a child and woman who knew nothing? What did he do?"

"You don't know?" came the amazed question.

"I have no idea. I only knew he knew something he wasn't supposed to know." Valerie fought inside herself for a moment before succumbing to a calm void of emotion.

There was a whispered conference below, in which several of the head men became more and more agitated. After much cursing and exclamations of anger, someone turned back to the phone. "He was involved in… shady… work between the Chinese and Japanese government. Only, we were the ones who hired him. He knew too much about our plans."

"You hired him to manipulate the governments." Valerie was not surprised by this. Her father had been brilliant, after all. "How did he do this?"

The man below shrugged. "He stole documents. He blackmailed others to make a little change here, or a little change there. He assassinated a few rising political leaders. He bribed a few more. He was good, but he was too good. He was out of our control."

"Why was he killed?" Valerie's voice was icy.

The Tyrant groaned slightly, and the man who'd been singled out as ordering them dead shuddered in his chair.

"We were afraid he would sell our plans to another government. The US government. He fled us for years. When you mentioned the CIA we were certain one of you had spoken with them."

"Why were the others killed?"

He hesitated.

"I am not afraid to detonate it," whispered Valerie tonelessly. "Answer me."

"We were afraid he had told them."

Valerie gritted her teeth, refusing to cry. "A child who could not even _walk_? You felt threatened by _him_?"

The accused man was sobbing loudly now, cringing at her every word, rocking back and forth. "I was only following orders!" he screamed. "I'm sorry! I am!"

"We offer our apology."

For a few moments, Valerie was silent. "Tell him to stand up on the table," she said finally.

"You don't want his name?" He asked in puzzlement.

"I don't need it if I can see his face. I am here in this room."

Everyone jumped at that. They hadn't expected her to be _too_ far away, but in the _room_? With even greater nervousness than before, they began to squirm in their seats, and the guards hastily forced him onto the table.

Valerie stared down at his face for a long time. "He'll be dead before the night's over," she whispered. Then she hung up.

In the room below, pandemonium reigned supreme. That last line was certainly worrying. Would just _he_ be dead, or would all of them be dead? Would Zane really protect them, or would he disappear as she had on several occasions now?

The CU called, and said that as far as they could tell the cell phone signal had originated in the room itself.

On the roof, Valerie sat in the dark, tears trickling down her face. Everything… _everything_ was falling apart! "Why did you die, baby?" she sobbed. "Why?"

Slowly, she turned, and walked across the roof, not caring to watch the room as they begged Zane to interfere on their behalf any longer. Nothing matter anymore.

Nothing except getting Zane out alive, and blowing that man to pieces. He _would_ be dead before the night was over.

Valerie let herself down the drain pipe, tugging the cap off her head and twisting the timer's knobs. Around the corner a young man was standing on guard duty, tense and nervous. He would have to do.

Wincing at the stiffness in her fingers, Valerie tore off a strip of the bandages, and painfully wrote a few words on it:

_I'm a fair woman. Leave Zane where he is, or __I'll press the button without waiting. I'm not in a good mood tonight._

It was enough. It would get her point across. Valerie pulled off the gloves, hesitated a moment, and then pulled off the shirt too. She didn't care anymore, and she was wearing a sports bra. There would be no doubt about who she was.

One step at a time, she walked around the corner.

When the guard turned, she was standing there. Her gun was only a few inches from his face. "Boo."

After choking on a scream, he hastily set down his own gun, and held up his hands, allowing her to back him into the wall. Still keeping her gun trained on him, Valerie held out the scrap of bandage to him. He took it, and then the kitchen timer, set for twenty minutes.

Valerie nodded slightly, picked up his gun, snatched the coil of rope from his pack, and stepped back, motioning at him impatiently.

The boy took off running as hard as he could, and Valerie climbed back up the drainpipe, certain that the note and the timer would get to The Tyrant in a few minutes.

She had barely returned to the skylight when the doors of the conference room burst open, and the boy came running in screaming something in Russian, face pure white.

The Tyrant snatched the note and the timer from the boy, snapping at the confused Chinese, "He saw her outside."

It only took a moment for him to read the note through, look at the timer, and realize what it was. They had eighteen minutes to get out of the area before she blew something up. And Zane needed to stay where he was. He told the Chinese this, and the room was clear in less than a minute after Zane was secured to the chair with many apologies.

Already, the helicopter pad was lighting up. Men were shouting, and Valerie heard several shots.

Below her, Zane looked only slightly confused, but he glanced around, waiting trustingly for her.

Valerie picked up the gun she had taken from the guard, and blew out the skylight, ignoring Zane's startled yelp. In silence, she knotted the rope around the chimney next to her. Then she tied the rope around her waist and slowly began to let herself through the window.

The chandelier hung fifteen feet to her left, sparkling in silence, seemingly innocent. She raised her gun, and fired four shots at when it met with the ceiling.

There was a horrible ripping sound as chunks of ceiling were pulled out with the chandelier like roots from the earth, and then a tremendous crash as thousands of lights broke at once, and a few hundred pound elaborate piece of metal fell to the table. Broken wires sizzled angrily, and dust clouded the room. Zane was choking and swearing, but appeared unhurt.

Valerie let the rest of the rope out, and dropped the last few feet to the table, hurrying towards the huge mess.

Carefully, ignoring everything from the continued pieces of falling ceiling, to Zane's yells, and the screams of people outside the room, she pulled apart the mass of wires.

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**Last week of school! Yes! (except for the fact that I have to take a ton of finals...)**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	31. Flame of the Gods

**I'm updating slightly early, because I'm not sure if I can tomorrow. Please review people! I want to break 300 on this story. Thanks to everyone who voted for The Spark for the People's Choice Award! excited squealing drowns out the thank-yous Lots of love!**

**I daresay this chapter title is a little obvious. At some time or another, throughout the course of the story, I knew I would be forced to let them get their hands on the diamond, or you would all be very disappointed**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Something cool, and hard met her fingers, and she pulled madly on it, finally freeing it from the mass of burning wires. "The _Flame of the Gods_," she whispered, holding it up. It was indeed huge. Her hand could not fit halfway around it even, and it glowed a deep blue, sparkling dangerously.

Zane stopped his Portuguese swearing, and stared in awe. No _wonder_ they'd done so much for this diamond! It must be worth an entire _country_!

Valerie suddenly laughed, turned, and ran down the table towards him, clutching the diamond tightly to her. "Are you alright Zane?"

"Wonderful."

He stood with a groan when Valerie untied him, and stretched out his cramped muscles, glancing at her for permission before lifting the diamond out of her hand. "I have to admit, Madam, when you lit that lighter and I saw how young you were, I would never have believed you'd been holding this and I was alive. You're only eighteen!"

Valerie scowled at him. "I'm nineteen today. Nice birthday present, isn't it?"

Zane grinned. "It is, Madam."

For an instant, Valerie hesitated, staring at the floor. Then she lifted her eyes. Very slowly. "My name is— is Valerie."

Neither of them moved. "Thank you."

Valerie spun suddenly, picking up her gun. "I promised someone they would die tonight, Zane. Let's go. There are helicopters outside, and I think we have about nine minutes left."

Inwardly, Zane groaned. History repeated, except this time she didn't have a bomb. He hoped. He took off running after her, out of the room, tucking the diamond into his pocket. "Do you actually—"

"Are you serious?" Valerie glanced back over his shoulder. "Where would I get it? It's called a bluff, Zane. Just like the CIA thing. How else do you think I stay alive?"

"You're wicked."

"Thank you." Valerie turned the corner, and pounded across the entryway to the front doors. "Watch yourself, Zane. If they figure it out or decide to start shooting, we're dead. There's too many of them."

Zane laughed and sped up until he was right behind her. "By the way, how'd you get out of that copter?"

Valerie shoved open the door. "I jumped dear. Elementary. I went out the rear exit."

"You actually_ jumped_?" Zane almost slowed before remembering speed was of the essence, and had to hurry to catch up with her as they went down the huge flight of stairs.

"Of course not! I hung from the stupid crossbeam for two hours, and jumped off when we reached the landing pad. That harness caught onto it nicely, I must say. I was so very pleased they provided me with it after bandaging me up like that."

Zane shook his head in reluctant admiration and annoyance at how stupid she was, and moved up beside her as they pounded down the strip towards the helicopter pad on which several copters had already landed.

"Where did your shirt and bandages go, by the way?"

Valerie flushed slightly, but it was hard to tell, since her cheeks were already pink from the cold and the exertion. "I took the bandages off so I could move better, and the shirt so I'd be recognized without it."

Zane looked at her sideways. "It's an improvement, in my opinion. Much more shape."

Valerie swore at him, and turned slightly pinker.

There were shouts as they came around the curve within sight of the huge crowd at the landing pad, and several men almost began to shoot before being screamed at by superior officers not to be fools, because then she'd push the button right away.

Valerie held out her hand, breathing hard. "Give me the diamond, Zane. For a moment."

Obediently Zane dug it out of his pocket and handed it to her without breaking stride. Freedom. So incredibly close. It was exhilarating, and he felt slightly drunk. The impossibility of the whole thing, and they were actually _doing_ it!

In the criminal world, there were legends of criminals who'd done the impossible. He'd never thought he'd actually meet one, much less be involved in the whole thing. Valerie was nineteen tonight. She'd killed Kusac Trabar, she'd destroy and broken out of The Fortress, she'd stolen the _Flame of the Gods_, and she was avoiding the Sun Ye On and the Mafia at the same time. Not to mention her minor victories, such as disappearing from a helicopter in midair. He'd say she jumped. It sounded better.

Valerie slowed just slightly, smiling as the men hurriedly parted for them. They were only two, and she had only one gun the other one was out of bullets. Perhaps it was the reputation. She'd have to work on building that. It could come in handy.

The Tyrant and a Chinese gentlemen were halfway to the largest copter, but they'd stopped halfway, watching her fearfully.

Valerie stopped in the very center of the pad, and held up her hand, flashing the huge diamond at the sea of men around her. "The _Flame of the Gods_. Look carefully, because you're never going to see it again." She smirked at The Tyrant tauntingly.

The Tyrant made a strangled noise, and glanced down at the timer that was still in his hand.

"Worried?" asked Valerie. "How nice. Now where is that despicable creature I had stand up on the table earlier this evening. I'd like to put a bullet through his head before I let you all go."

"But—" stammered The Tyrant in a panic, "we only have four minutes left! Have you set it on a timer, or do you have a button?"

Valerie slid a hand into her pocket casually. "I'm not that stupid, dear. I like to allow for unexpected business."

Zane groaned softly. "You shouldn't have told them that, Valerie! You'll be killed!" He turned, jerking open the door of the copter. "You! Get out of there!" He motioned the pilot out angrily, glancing back desperately over his shoulder at Valerie at the man hastily scrambled out of the copter and backed away a safe distance.

Valerie shook her head in frustration. "I have to kill him, Zane! The rules! I have to!"

"Damn your rules!" shouted Zane. "Do you not understand? Another time! You've done enough tonight! Now get in the copter now, and we're leaving! I've had enough!"

"No!" Valerie glared at him a moment, and then turned back to The Tyrant, who seemed slightly confused by the whole disagreement, and what it was about. "Where is the man? Bring him to me!"

The Tyrant hesitated only a moment more before turning to the man beside him, and whispering something pleadingly. Several things, actually. The head of the Sun Ye On turned hastily, and shouted something at his men in Chinese, sweeping his arms through the air for the desired effect.

From the right, there was a sudden scream of terror and pleading, and a scramble of several men.

Zane grabbed Valerie's shoulder, and leaned over, whispering urgently in her ear. "Please, Valerie? I don't want to die here. Not this close. Please not this _close_!"

"We're not going to die, Zane." Valerie shook him off impatiently. "I just have to kill him, and then we'll leave."

"If you die before you hit the button, it won't matter." Zane glanced around nervously. "Listen to me for _once_ will you, Valerie? I'm a bodyguard. Saving lives is what I do best. Every alarm in my system is going off full-blast right now. Something's wrong."

"You're too paranoid." Valerie turned, staring at the miserable man who'd been thrust out into the open by his former comrades, who huddled in front of her, sobbing. "You know what he did."

Zane relented slightly. "Look, at least stay close to the copter. Shoot him and get in as fast as you can."

"No." Valerie drew her gun from her shoulders, one hand in her jean pocket still, and stalked forward, eyes fixed on the man who had destroyed her family and her innocence. "He's going to pay. I'm not going to let it be painless. Not after the baby."

Knowing it would be useless to argue with her, Zane glanced around, trying to catch the angle most bullets would come from. It wasn't much help in the end. After all, they were surrounded— a bodyguard's worst nightmare. Hundreds of men, armed to the teeth. There were only two of them, and they were running out of bullets.

Valerie stood in front of the man, gun leveled at his chest. She saw no one else. "You killed them," she whispered. "You killed them all. Even the baby, you fool!"

The man moaned.

"If the baby had lived," she continued stoically, "perhaps you would have as well. But no. You killed him. With a knife. It was not even a quick bullet. You drove a knife through him, and let him die slowly. And there was no one to come or to hold him."

Zane shuddered. How could a person do that to a baby? Just— just— poor Valerie.

He glanced around, seeing the subtle movement of guns being removed from holsters, and the men waiting to shoot. They were tense, and nervous. Afraid that perhaps the bomb would go off, any minute. They were relying on the word of their superiors who Valerie had tricked on numerous occasion, and nothing was safe anymore.

Perhaps that hesitation and doubt would give him just enough time to keep her alive. She wasn't going to listen to reason anymore, but giving the circumstances, he didn't blame her.

It surprised him she wasn't screaming, or crying. She was very still, and that was all. Somehow, the stillness of her, and the utter void of emotion was the most worrying. To be hurt so badly that it was impossible to express that hurt was a horrible thing.

It was very still. Terribly still, Zane checked to make sure the copter door was wide open, glancing around one last time before moving out after her from the protection of the copter.

Valerie ignored him, but she must know he was there. Zane would not force her back. He only hoped she would hurry.

Slowly, Valerie pulled the safety. No one moved. No one spoke. It was like the world had stopped, and everything was waiting. Overhead, the moon came out from behind the clouds that had gathered, watching. A breeze stirred the pines behind them.

She pulled the trigger.

After that, Zane had difficulty keeping everything in order. It happened quickly, that was for certain.

The man toppled, sob cut off halfway through, and as his body hit the ground, he heard the simultaneous clicks of hundreds of safeties being released all around them.

With an inward groan of frustration, he hurled himself at Valerie, managing to get her between him and the copter as the first of the triggers were pulled. There was no time. No time to think, and no time to wait. _Why_ must she be so damn _stubborn_?

The glass in the windows and the windshield shattered as he swung her into the copter, and he shoved her head down, instinctively turning his head to push his face into his sleeve.

Underneath him, Valerie scrambled to her knees. "Let go of me Zane! Get in and shut the door!"

Speed. Zane had been right after all. She shouldn't have told them she was controlling it all with it a button. Maybe that she could stop it if they did what she said. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!

Valerie jammed the altitude lever up sharply, shooting out the broken windshield with her left hand. If they didn't hurry, they wouldn't be able to get off the ground. They'd either be shot to pieces, the copter would, or there'd be too much weight on it.

The men were starting to drop their guns and run towards the copter, wanting to hold it down.

As the copter began to rise, the door slammed shut, and Zane collapsed into the seat next to her. "How are thing?" He turned his head to cough, and took a deep breath. "Are we going to make it?"

Valerie risked a peek over the jagged glass in her window. The first man had just missed the crossbeam. "We did."

Zane smiled and coughed again. "Yeah. Nice birthday present."

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**Points to anyone who can guess what's wrong. Something _is_ wrong! I more chapter, and an epilogue. Please review, I want to break 300!**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	32. Madam

**I'm sorry to say, as I said at the end of the last chapter, that something is wrong. You will have to read the chapter to find out.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Valerie laughed. "Are you getting a _cold_? After all that happened, you're coming down with a cold?"

"Actually—" Zane suddenly stiffened, face twisting in pain. "Actually, no."

"What's the matter?" Valerie leveled out the controls towards Alaska, and turned to look at him. "Did you get shot again? What does that make it? The second time? Or is it the third?"

Zane shook his head in pained silence, and slumped back in his chair, breathing hard, ragged and choking. It wasn't right.

A worried look on her face, Valerie pressed buttons until she got a light, checked behind them to see that they weren't being followed for once, and then slipped out of her seat to lean over him. "Alright then, let's see you. Where'd you get shot?"

"Back," he gasped, and coughed again. This time, Valerie saw it was blood he was coughing up.

"Oh damn," she whispered. Gently she wrapped an arm around him, and pulled him forward against her so she could see his back better.

There were three bloody holes in it. Not nicks. These bullets were buried in him. She remembered him jumping on her as men started shooting, and forcing her between him in the plane. Those bullets— those bloody holes were meant for her. Not him.

Zane jerked slightly as her finger brushed his shoulder, and squeezed her arm so tightly it hurt.

Quickly she lifted her hands and eased him back. "I—" Underneath she felt panic rising, and she fought it helplessly. She couldn't panic. Not now. Things were falling apart so badly, and she couldn't afford to let the last few threads snap. He would be okay. He _had_ to be okay!

"I doubt it." His voice was very quiet.

It took her a moment to realize she'd been mumbling to herself aloud. She looked up, right into his pained eyes, and saw that he knew how bad it was. He knew it was bad. He knew he was going to die.

"You can't!" Valerie stared at him a moment, and suddenly got to her feet, turning out the light, and pushing him away. "You _can't_ die, you fool! Don't you understand?" She jerked the controls angrily, ignoring the pain in her hands. No. Not ignoring it, relishing it.

"I'm sorry." Zane collapsed into another fit of coughing, and after a moment, Valerie set the controls on autopilot was the nearest small town in Alaska, and turned back to him.

"_Why_?"

Zane winced at the hurt, and the accusation in her voice. A child's voice. She was being destroyed all over again. Why her? "I don't know why." What a horrible answer to give her. _I don't know._ Neither did she. She didn't know why life was hurting her like this. It wasn't fair.

Valerie stared at him in hurt— like he was hurting her. Like he was doing it on purpose. "But why?"

Zane turned his head away.

The cold that blew in with the wind made him shiver, and Valerie got out of her seat, pushing him gently to the side, and curling her body around him to keep him warmer. She held onto him tightly, but gently, careful not to bump him. "Does it hurt?"

"Only a little."

"It does." She tightened her grip, and set her head against his shoulder. "You lied to me."

He didn't answer her.

"Zane?" She shook his arm insistently. "Don't do that! Stay awake and talk to me! How much— how much longer can you— can you—" A sob tore at her throat, breaking off her words and threatening to spill out through tears.

"For a while." Zane struggled to raise his arm, finally, burying his hand in her tousled black hair. "Your hair's soft."

She said nothing, but it didn't matter anymore. It mattered only that he was talking. It mattered only that he was still alive. That was what mattered. Nothing else.

"Valerie?"

"What?" She tightened her grip again, and kissed his forehead. "What's the matter?"

Zane let his head settle against her chest, and closed his eyes. It was very dark anyway. The moon had disappeared behind the clouds again, and it would probably storm soon. The copter was going to be a hell of a place to be during the storm. "You're a good kid, Valerie. Don't forget to give something back before it's too late. Before you get hurt."

Valerie laughed bitterly. "Before I get hurt?"

"I don't want you to get hurt Valerie. You've been hurt enough already." Zane bushed his face under her chin. "If you take, and take, and never give back, the world's going to take back from you one day, Valerie. Give something back before it's too late."

She was shaking. "You don't understand," she whispered. "It's much too late for that, Zane. It's much too late."

"Why?"

Valerie screamed suddenly, startling him. It was a horrible sound, and he was glad he would never have a nightmare again, or he was sure it would haunt him in his dreams. It was so… tortured. "Because," she sobbed, but her eyes were dry, because there were no tears left to cry, "I've killed so many people, Zane! So many people!"

"It's still not too late." He let go of her hair, and moved his hand to her face, trying to sooth her.

"Yes, it is!" She whimpered like a baby, clinging to him. "I'm killing _you_, Zane! I killed you, that's why!"

He felt the rigid anger in her, the helplessness, and the fear. She was so _alone_. All alone.

"You're not _killing_ me, Valerie. Of course you're not!"

"Yes I am," she whispered. "You know I am, Zane. I killed you. I might as well have pulled the trigger. I _killed_ you, Zane."

Zane shook his head slightly. "No. No, you didn't! I'm not even dead yet!"

Valerie pressed her lips against his suddenly. Fiercely. "You don't understand, Zane. I promised your brother— I promised him it wouldn't hurt you. I promised him it would be one bullet. I promised you I'd get you out." A tear started to form in her eye, but it disappeared in a blink. "I'm killing you, Zane! Slowly! It wasn't even one quick bullet! You're dying slowly, Zane! Like a knife, damn it!"

"I do understand. And I don't care."

"But I do." Valerie shut her eyes tightly and rocked back and forth, holding on to him. "I want to die, Zane. I do. Let me die with you. I'm so _sick_ of it all, Zane! I want to die!"

With a sigh, Zane lifted his head, which had started to drop as the weight became heavier to hold. His back was on fire, and breathing was killing him. He felt like he was drowning, but there was no water. Only blood. Lots and lots of blood. "Do you remember what you told me?"

"About what?" She wiped the blood off his mouth when he began to cough again and waited, staring out the broken windshield, and not seeing anything.

Zane looked out too. He couldn't see any stars, and it bothered him. There was nothing for her to reach for. No reason she could see to go on. "You said: sometimes the hero is the one who survives. Not the one who gives up their lives. Sometimes, it's more difficult to live than to die. Trust me. I know. Do you really know, Valerie?"

"I didn't then," she whispered woodenly. "I do now. I want to die, Zane. I want to die!"

"If you live, you'll be the hero." He reached up, playing his fingers through her hair again, wondering when their conversation would have to end because he couldn't continue it anymore.

"Then I want to be a damn bloody _coward_!" she sobbed out, rage filling her voice. "A coward; you hear me, Zane? A coward!" Valerie buried her face in his hair, and shook, harder and harder, until it hurt her stomach and head, and she wanted to throw up.

Zane coughed again, violently, before falling back against her chest. "Valerie?" he said weakly.

"What?" Valerie kissed his face, and began to rock back and forth. "Please don't die. Please don't die. Oh you _fool_!"

He said nothing, but took her hand, and held onto it.

"I don't want to cry, Zane." Her eyes were dry, but he could hear the desperate tears in her voice, and knew she was close to breaking. She was holding in a sea of tears, and she didn't know how to let them out. She didn't want to let them out.

"Cry," said Zane simply. "Tears are beautiful."

"Why?" She looked at him pleadingly, asking for a reason for _something_.

"If you can't cry for death, you don't understand the beauty of life," whispered Zane with a smile. "My sister told me that. If you can't cry for the dead and dying…" He coughed again. "You're a good kid, Valerie. I'm glad you're getting out alive."

Valerie shuddered, but still refused to cry. "I'm not."

"I'm sorry." Zane took a deep breath, and gagged on blood. "Be sure to give back, Valerie. Don't keep taking, or you'll be hurt again."

Valerie looked at the shards of glass lying on the floor. Like her heart. All broken and cut, and it would never be better again.

"Be sure to include my name in the history book," said Zane with a painful smile. "After all, I won't be there to brag about it, and I wasn't exactly the key player in this."

"Yes you were." Valerie hugged him closer. "It wouldn't have happened without you. Any other man I would have killed without thinking. But you're different."

"That's nice." Zane smiled slightly, and slumped against her, fighting to keep his eyes open. "I thought the same thing about you."

There was a sudden crash of thunder, and Valerie looked up as a bolt of lightning ripped open the sky, blinding her and the coast below them for an instant before disappearing.

When she looked down, he was dead.

"I'm sorry, baby," she whispered. "I didn't know… I didn't mean to! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I'm sorry…"

She looked down at the blue diamond, where it lay on the floor, surrounded by the broken glass. Even in the black, it seemed to glow a deep, treacherous blue. Sinister, and cool. It was laughing. It was laughing at what it had done, and at what price it had been taken.

Why, oh _why_ did it have to happen?

What if… if only they hadn't gone after the diamond. If only they had left the country when they still could have. If only she hadn't asked about her family and the man who killed them. If only she would have listened to Zane when he told her to get in the plane. If only she hadn't let him protect her, and had made him get inside.

If only… she hadn't fallen in love with him. If only he hadn't died.

If only she hadn't been a fool.

Yes. That was it. She was a fool. She had killed him, and she knew she had. Zane— he didn't deserve to die. Not Zane.

Four years. Four years wasn't that long ago. She'd have thought she would learn. Perhaps there were some things that you could never learn. Maybe she would always be the fool.

Slowly, she picked up the diamond lying on the floor. It sparkled brilliantly, taunting her with a false light in the darkness.

"Happy birthday," she whispered.

Valerie took one last look at the _Flame of the Gods_, and hurled it down… down… down. Into the frothing water below. Then she turned the controls, and set her course for America again, steering with one hand. Her other was still clasped tightly with Zane's. A single tear ran down her face, but no one saw, and no one would have guessed, because it was raining.

Valerie was gone. Only Madam was left.

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**Now you can all see why I was extremely depressed for three hours after writing this. Very, _very_ depressing. Killing characters you love is not good for your mental health. Shakespeare should have died after writing Romeo and Juliet. Anyway, if you're all angry with me, or at least sad, feel free to review. Please note also, that there will be a short Epilogue, to explain who she is in the book a little better, though you can probably figure a good part of that out.**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


	33. Epilogue

**I don't know why, but I just want to update this a little early. I may not have time tomorrow, (I'm on vacation, but with a laptop near a wi-fi spot) or I may, but here's another chapter. I'm proud to announce that I've broken 300 reviews(a feat managed by Agi, obviously, and very few others in this fandom), and now have over 6,000 hits, though it isn't always the most accurate thing. I'm averaging about 120 hits per chapter, and still getting about ten reviews... aims evil eye at non-reviewing audience...**

**I'm sorry to say that this is really short, and there are no miracle resurrections. However, I think it's important that we tie the end of Flame of the Gods into the information presented in the books. (If you don't get the tattoo thing… I'm sorry. I'm so _very_ sorry. When the men in the white coats come, give them my regards.)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the things I own. The things I own are the things not owned by Colfer. Colfer owns everything except the things I own. The things Colfer owns are the things I do not own. :) Try that one, all you people who think you're the next Artemis Fowl.

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**

Madam was invited to that year's annual meeting of the Criminal Union. She was the world's youngest Criminal of the Year now. She was the world's most dangerous criminal. Nobody crossed her.

There were rumors. She hadn't been seen, and she had refused all job offers in the past four months.

Nothing was concrete, but they said she and her target had been horribly in love, and that he had saved her life, and in the process gotten himself killed. No one knew for sure. They weren't going to walk up to Madam and ask her. Everyone knew now, about her family. Why she'd become a hit woman.

Out of respect for her achievements, the CU had demanded a formal apology from the Sun Ye On for the murder of innocent persons, especially the atrocity against a child.

People wondered whether she would come or not. Rivers would not say. Well— he admitted Madam would not tell him. At any rate, there was a huge attendance rate that year.

They were halfway through first session, the audience considerably disappointed, when the doors at the back of the hall opened.

Heads turned.

Madam stood in the doorway a moment, and then walked forward quietly, down the long carpet and up the stairs of the dais to the chair at the front of the room for honored guests.

The black dress she was wearing dropped down in the back, and etched in eternal ink between her shoulder blades was a blue diamond. It was something you wanted to take a picture of and plaster all over your walls, but no one did, because they felt it would be rude.

She seated herself slowly, and looked at the room.

No one moved.

With one finger she reached out and turned the mike on. "Next year," she said softly, "I will be starting a school. A school for bodyguards. Only the Butler family is invited to attend, but I suppose everyone will want to hire them." Her gaze swept the audience, and stopped for an instant as she met the eyes of Zane's brother.

"I will not be available for a press conference. Please don't risk it. Since Zane died there is no one to restrain me if I become angry."

One of the peace enforcers as the side of the room looked at her pleadingly, hoping she wouldn't become too angry, since he was only doing his job, and said: "But on CU grounds—"

Madam rose. "Rules only apply to those who care about the consequences. I have no one left to care about, including myself."

She turned her back to the room for an instant, looking over the wall with the names of criminals of the ages, who would forever be remembered. Her name was to be put up later that day. "Do not but my name on that wall. Put Zane's. I did it, but he caused it."

Madam began to walk down the stairs. "Besides, I do not want to remember what I have done."

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**Sniffles, no? It had to end that way, sadly. You know the rest. Madam has obviously become who she is in the books. Note one of her most important rules is not to get attached to your principle. Also, that revealing your name is highly discouraged. Hmm… I actually didn't plan that out. I just realized it.**

**Anyway, I think Zane was definitely a good character. No GarySue-ness in him. I'm glad I wrote this story. To make up for it though, I'm going to turn out some humor this summer, and A Questionable End will _definitely_ have a happy ending. I promise! (it's AH, for Agi) Love to all of you who reviewed especially. I can't wait for the next story all ready! (I have obsessions with updating constantly, and always having a story. It's weird, I guess, but I freak if I have nothing to turn out. Good thing I'm a few years ahead of schedule. Everything's marked on my calendar. Isn't that sad? I have no life)**

**You who do not review: Your evils will condemn you on the day of judgment. :)**


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